We Did What We Had To Do
by Ladyamesindy
Summary: Highever has come under attack by Rendon Howe and his men, yet Eleanor Cousland and Roland Gilmore still fight on.  This is their point of view from the attack forward. Eleanor Cousland/Rory Gilmore/F. Surana and others.
1. Prologue

_As you have no doubt noticed by reading __**Til You Return to Me Again**__ and __**The Sands of Time**__ (not necessarily needed for this story, but it would make a lot of what comes later make a whole lot more sense!), I make the assertion that Eleanor Cousland and Rory Gilmore both survive the fall of Highever. Going with that assumption, I decided to give their survival the same treatment I did for Lysette and Fergus Cousland: a story of their own. _

_That said, if you look at my profile page, you will see that there is a story listed called __**We Do What Must Be Done**__. That is my take on how Bryce Cousland and Eleanor (Muir) Cousland met. In that vein, this story has been titled __**We Did What We Had To Do**__ as Eleanor's follow up to that story. This one you may want to read as many references will be made to Eleanor and Bryce's early days._

_I will openly and honestly tell you that I did search for a way to keep Bryce Cousland alive, but I just could not see any way of making it work. This should come as no surprise to anyone, but it was a depressing fact to face nonetheless. I have fallen in love with the entire Cousland family, no matter how I write their stories (and I have numerous Cousland Wardens and more to come) and this was a heartbreaking fact to accept. So, I then thought to myself, what would Eleanor and Rory do if they did escape? And thus, a story was born. I hope you like it. _

_Also in this particular Cousland universe and running simultaneously to this story, I have started one with Alistair called __**Smoke and Mirrors**__ which will have much more intrigue, and will involve elements of the Cousland family as well, so feel free to join us over there too! However, Real Life has reared its ugly head, so I will probably be posting this story MWF for now, and Alistair's on T/Th once it gets started next week. I am hoping that will change soon, that things will settle down in RL and my muse will come back to me on a regular basis!_

_Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful betas: __**Erynnar, VioletTheirin, Piceron**__ and __**MireliAmbar**__ for their support, guidance and the proof-reading! =) You ladies keep me sane when my muse goes off unexpectedly on holiday ...!_

_In the meantime, enjoy, and keep in mind that Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

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_**WE DID WHAT WE HAD TO DO**_

Eleanor stood at the side of the practice ring watching her son face off against his second, Roland Gilmore. She felt her husband move next to her, his arm sliding around her shoulders. Across on the other side of the ring, she could see her daughter, Lysette, watching closely as well. Today was a test ... _But for whom?_ she wondered silently.

Both men were in armor, though sporting practice swords and shields. Though Fergus had a few years on his adversary, both were tall, strong men. Each was as proficient with their weapon and shield as the other. Eleanor felt that the match would be a draw, but she did not say so. She knew they liked to spar against each other periodically, test the other, see who would win that day. Most often it was Fergus who won, though Eleanor had begun to suspect of late that Rory held back just a little, in his own way signalling to his captain that he understood his role.

"It's hard to believe he's been here for ten years," Bryce was saying as he watched the two men go at each other.

"He has improved so much," Eleanor agreed. Then she smiled. "I remember what a shy lad he was when he first arrived here ..."

Bryce chuckled. "Still is, upon occasion, I will grant you that, but I agree he has improved a great deal. I am glad he came to us."

Eleanor moved to lean against the fencing around the arena as she nodded her agreement. Roland Gilmore, son of Andreas Glimore of Hunter Fell. Of all the lords across Ferelden that the boy could have been squired with, Andreas had chosen Bryce because of a debt of honor the man felt he owed to the Teyrn from years past. Whatever reasons the father had for sending the boy to squire with Bryce, Roland Gilmore had been welcomed and accepted as a part of the Cousland family.

Eleanor winced as Fergus managed a hard shot to Rory's right shoulder, but was impressed to see that the younger man did not falter. He maintained his grip on his weapon, moved into his next motion quite easily and nearly felled Fergus with a shot from his shield in the process.

"It would seem," Bryce murmured, "that our 'young squire' has learned how to set aside his personal feelings and focus on the matter at hand."

Eleanor sighed. "It's about time, too!" she said softly. "I will give Rory credit for his manners, but when he is in battle, he needs to let it go ..."

Another series of shield bashes, shield pummels and assaults took place between the men, interspersed with weapon strikes, until finally one of them went down ... hard. Though concern for the safety of the two men, Eleanor knew it was a necessary training tactic. She also knew that Fergus had goaded Rory into the confrontation, hoping to catch the younger man unawares ...

With a glance up at Bryce, he nodded and the teyrn and teyrna entered the ring, approaching the men simultaneously. "Well," Eleanor said as she reached for her son's arm to pull him to his feet, "I hope you have learned your lesson?"

Fergus chuckled, brushing off the dust and dirt from his armor. "I am quite pleased with the results, mother," he replied.

Bryce Cousland chuckled. "Well done, Rory," he told the younger man. "It isn't every day that Fergus gets bested in such a ... resounding manner."

"Your Grace, I -"

"Do not apologize, Rory," Eleanor told him gently as she turned to face him. "Fergus knew exactly what he was getting himself into."

Fergus stepped forward and reached a hand out to Rory, grasping him wrist to wrist in the usual military manner. "That I did, and well pleased am I with the results," he assured his second. "You are as dedicated to this family as any of us, my friend," he added. "I am grateful to know it and will come to depend upon it as well."

Rory stared at Fergus for a long moment before nodding. "I understand," he replied solemnly, nodding. Then glancing at the teyrna, he smiled gently. "I have learnt my lesson as well, your ladyship," he told her.

Eleanor smiled. "Good," she replied, looping one arm through his and another through Fergus' as Bryce took their practice gear from them. "Now that this is done, let's go and see what Nan has prepared for the evening meal, shall we?" she asked as she led them towards the dining hall.


	2. Chapter 1

_Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all who have decided to join me in following Eleanor Cousland and Rory Gilmore through their adventure - my readers, reviewers, lurkers as well as those adding alerts and favs, including: Nithu, bioncafemme, jenncgf, Snafu1000, Kazzyb59, LadyReeana, Erynnar, MireliAmbar, Piceron and ginganinja13. Your interest keeps the creative juices flowing!_

_Many, many thanks to my betas for their assistance and their patience: __**Piceron, VioletTheirin, MireliAmbar**__ and __**Erynnar**__. Bless you my friends! You are keeping me well grounded!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

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The sounds coming from the other side of the barricade were getting louder. Eleanor Muir Cousland, Teyrna of Highever, verified the lock on the kitchen door before hurrying back to the larder. _Rory Gilmore,_ she prayed silently, _I thank you for your dedication to duty. Maker be with you._ She was just closing the door to the larder when a huge thunderous crash could be heard coming from the area of the great hall: the main doors had been breached. _Maker watch over them all!_

"El ... Ellie?"

Closing the heavy oaken panel, Eleanor secured the lock from the inside as best she could, though it's main purpose was for the outside. Swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat, she pushed a few heavy barrels in front as well for good measure. "I'm here, Bryce," she called reassuringly. Turning away from the door, she moved to her husband's side and knelt.

Blue green eyes that were beginning to fade glanced up slowly at her touch. He watched her take his hand, lean down to kiss him, her lips lingering for a long moment against his. "This is ... not ... how -"

"Hush Bryce, I will kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy Duncan and our daughter time, but I won't abandon you," Eleanor whispered, lifting a finger to his lips to silence him. "We have had a good life, you and I. One that was filled with happiness. We have beautiful children ready to take the world on in their own way and time." Eleanor swallowed back the lie. Bryce didn't need to know about his daughter-in-law or grandson. He would be with them soon enough by look of his injury. _Damn that traitorous bastard, Howe!" _ Using her hand to brush back strands of his graying hair, she caressed his cheek lovingly. "All of the time we have had together ... _all of it_," she whispered near his ear, "has been the very best. I would not trade it for anything, my love!"

Bryce pulled her head back to his, kissing her cheek. "I - I will be with them soon," he choked, "my father, your father, ... our son***** ..."

Eleanor knew that he still mourned the death of their first-born child as much if not more so than the day it had happened. Despite the years, the other children, and the love they hand all shared, he still blamed himself for that one unfortunate event. "Hush, love," she whispered softly. "Iain will find he cannot take you from me so easily! He must be patient!"

Bryce managed a small smile. "Ellie ... you must ... survive ... at all costs." He caught her gaze, saw her resistance. "Please, El," he admonished. "Promise me ..."

Eleanor dropped her head to his shoulder, felt his hand hold it there with the little strength he had left. "I ... don't want to be alone, Bryce ...," she whispered painfully. "I can't live without you. Not after all of this."

Bryce found the strength to lift her head between her hands. His gaze darkening in something akin to anger, he flared, "You _must_, Ellie! Our children still ... need ... you..."

Eleanor watched as his eyes closed, his hands fell. For a moment, she feared he'd left her behind. Frantically, she reached out and felt his neck ... finding a faint pulse. Breathing a sigh of relief, she rose to her feet and reached for her bow, her weapon of choice and the one she was an expert with. She could hear the pounding at the kitchen door beyond, and knew they would breach the barricade in mere moments. Adjusting her quiver, her armor and her position, she knelt beside her husband, one knee on the floor and one bent up for balance. She paused briefly to center herself, to focus her thoughts and emotions.

And then time ran out ...

* * *

"Bryce, darling, talk to me!" Eleanor called as she continued nocking arrows one after another and pelting the targets that were attempting to make it through the doorway into the larder. This had been going on for at least fifteen minutes, and despite the extra missiles she had brought with her, she was beginning to run low.

"Ellie ... I am ... done ...," Bryce coughed at long last.

Eleanor tried not to think of what was happening to him behind her. This was the man she had met under battle conditions, who had been severely injured and whom she had saved. Now he was leaving her behind. "Fight, my darling," she urged hoarsely. "Stay with me just a little longer! We can take these men! Remember how we -"

Eleanor felt a hand lightly grasp her ankle. She knew from the positioning, as she was still kneeling with one knee raised in front of her, that it was her husband's touch. "Bryce, love, I need you here with me!" She felt him squeeze gently. Ignoring tears that were flowing down her cheeks in rivers, she continued pelting the enemy soldiers with nary a miss.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she spared a glance down at the one man who had captured her heart and soul so many years before. The light in his eyes was fading fast, she saw, and his breathing was in ragged gasps. Biting her lip, she turned her attention back to the enemy in front of them ... and felt the bolt that pierced her right shoulder. With a cry of anger mixed with agony, Eleanor Muir Cousland rose to her feet and prepared to use her bow as a close ranged weapon. It had no blade as such, but she was a battle maiden, used to making due with whatever weapon was available. Before moving into action, she reached over and yanked the crossbow bolt out of her arm. Her cry reverberated throughout the small, stone room.

Lifting her head, Eleanor saw another crossbow taking aim. Before she could move, she saw the weapon knocked up into the air, the loosed bolt lodging in the ceiling above and a male voice shouting, "Don't be daft! The Arl wants 'her alive!"

_Alive, is it?_ she thought. _That bastard! _"Bryce?" she called softly, changing her position as men began pushing their way inside the small room. There was no response. Eleanor called his name again. Still silence. _Maker's blood! No!_

"Surrender, your ladyship," the first soldier, the one who had stopped the crossbowman, called. "You have no way to escape."

Eleanor chanced a quick glance at her husband. _Bryce!_ she sobbed, turning back to face her attackers. She knew it was a futile gesture, that she would most likely end up dead despite her promise to her husband, but she could not restrain herself any longer. With a silent cry to her dead husband, to her children and to the Maker above, Eleanor Muir Cousland, Teyrna of Highever, threw herself into hand-to-hand combat with the traitorous men before her armed only with her bow...

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***A/N:** Reference to the story _**We Do What Must Be Done**_


	3. Chapter 2

_I have made a revision to my time schedule for this story and __**Smoke & Mirrors.**__ When looking at my outlines, I discovered that this one will need to slow down a bit so that I do not get to a point where I have to stop in order to let the other story catch up ... Sooooo, I am going to switch this one to publications on T/Th next week, and __**Smoke & Mirrors**__ will publish on MWF. I hope this will even things out .. and if not, I will only have to pause publication once or twice if necessary in order to have things work out evenly._

_Thank you to all who have been reading, reviewing and lurking as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: jenncgf, roxfox62, Prudii Aden, Erynnar, Piceron, Snafu1000 and wisecracknmama. I am humbled by your interest and enthusiasm for the story! This story is close to my heart and I am glad that you are enjoying it as much as I am!_

_Thanks to my wonderful fabulous betas: __**Piceron, MireliAmbar, Erynnar**__ and __** VioletTheirin**__. These four ladies are well published and wonderful authors in their own right - if you have the time, please take a look at their stories. I think you will enjoy!_

_Bioware owns all but what I make up ..._

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"My Lady!"

She could hear the whisper near her, sensed the urgency in it, but she could not quite get her eyes to open, to cooperate and focus...

"My Lady!" The voice again. "Please, you must wake up!" And another.

She felt a hand at her shoulder, shifting her body ... jarring the aches and pains ... the muscles and sinew that had been injured, damaged ... and sparking the memories ... There was a sudden, bouncing jolt. With a gasp of pain and awareness, her eyes shot open. Above her, blocking precious little else from view, were two faces. Even in the dim lighting of her surroundings, one she recognized immediately, the other ... "Br-Bryce?"

Ser Roland Gilmore groaned softly at the news he would have to break. "No, my lady. It's Rory ... Gilmore."

"Eleanor," Mallol urged, placing a vial at her friend's lips, "drink this."

Eleanor Cousland, Teyrna of Highever, began downing the health potion without thought ... until the taste of the draught caught up with her, making her cough. Turning her head away, she whispered, "Enough, Mallol!"

But the priestess was persistent. "Eleanor, drink it all! You must! You have to survive and escape!"

Eleanor ignored Mallol's protests and began shifting slightly, finding that despite the horrible taste the potion was beginning to relieve some of the assortment of aches and pains that had been plaguing her. Glancing up at Rory, the teyrna could now see his face more clearly in the dark. Reaching out, she grasped his wrist and murmured, "I'm sorry, Rory."

He shook his head sadly. "No apology necessary," he said quietly. "I ... for your sake, your ladyship, I wish I could have been the Teyrn."

Eleanor nodded. Yes, the memories were flooding back now ... but she pushed them aside. There would be time for grieving later. Another hard jolt had her falling backwards, though Rory was quick to catch her before her head hit the floor. Glancing towards him, she managed a small smile of thanks in his direction before asking, "Where are we?"

Rory assisted the Teyrna into a better seated position, offering her his arm to lean against. He watched her carefully, worriedly. He still had concerns about her injuries: she had been unconscious for such a long time. "We are in a cart, about ten of us in this one, but they have at least three total."

Eleanor glanced around the walled transport, barely able to see her two companions' faces let alone the others, though she could hear their groans. "Where are we headed, do we know? Who ...?" Eleanor gasped loudly, the realization hitting her like a slap across her face. "Rendon Howe!"

Rory nodded gravely. "Yes, my lady. It was the Arl's men who did this, though I believe the Arl himself left very early on. I do not remember seeing him since the evening meal ..."

Mallol spoke up as well. "He had his men launch the attack after the keep was quiet for the night." She leaned in further and lowered her voice even further. "I overheard one of the guards saying that the Arl had left, was heading back to Denerim to ... prepare, but that the guards were to make sure to bring _you_ Eleanor, and alive. Something about 'special plans' for you."

The teyrna shuddered at the thought. She remembered a time in the distant past, early in her relationship with Bryce when a misunderstanding had led to attentions by Rendon Howe******. _Surely this isn't still tied to that?_ Groaning, she realized that in all likelihood it was. She realized then that the man was the type to never forget a personal affront. But the fact that the man could have and would have held a grudge for so long was very disturbing to her mind.

Swallowing hard, Eleanor managed, "How - how far are we? From the castle?"

"No more than a day out of Highever, my lady," Rory told her. "As far as I can tell, we are going to be taking the North Road through the Bannorn."

Eleanor nodded silently, her thoughts turning towards ... escape. Bryce had wanted her to escape above all else, to remain alive. Now she found herself focusing on that. "How badly are you hurt, Rory?" she asked after a time.

The man seemed flustered for just a brief moment, but finally managed to reply, "Assorted aches, pains. Normal battle injuries."

Eleanor turned and looked at him hard through the darkness. "You seem to be favoring your left arm," she observed quietly. No accusation, no question, just a simple observation.

He sighed reluctantly. "Yes, my lady," he murmured.

Mallol reached for Eleanor's hand, slipping a few small vials into her hand. "Hide these, Eleanor."

"Mallol -!"

"No," the priestess told her softly, squeezing Eleanor's arm firmly. "My leg is too bad off to let me move any distance, Eleanor. You will need to make a quick break, and there is safety in lesser numbers in this instance."

Eleanor hissed out a curse, surprising the woman. "I will not leave you here to that man's mercy, if ever he's had any!" she spat. "Which I know he has not! You _must_ come with us!"

Mallol smiled gently and patted the Teyrna's hand. "My friend, our main focus in this has been to keep you alive and well, so that you could escape. That is what the Teyrn would have wanted and you know it! I will remain ... perhaps I can find a way to distract them..., but you must go!"

Eleanor felt a strong hand at her shoulder. "She is right, my lady. The objective is for you to survive." He was silent for a moment, and then added, "I will go with you as far as I can, to Ostagar or Redcliffe or wherever you think you will be safe. I will protect you with my life as I would any of your family, but you must accept that the goal is for _you _to survive. I am expendable."

Eleanor sighed. She did not what to think on these things just yet. Swallowing hard, she reached for his arm again. Squeezing it reassuringly, she promised quietly, "I agree." _But I will make sure you stay with me! I cannot do this alone ..._

Rory winced as his head hit the top of the boxed wagon they were in, the wheel obviously hitting stone or rut or something yet again in it's path. "Here is my thought...," he finally told the women after a moment as he outlined his plan for their breakout.

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****A/N:** a reference to **We Do What Must Be Done**.


	4. Chapter 3

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and are lurking, as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: roxfox62, jenncgf, Piceron and Erynnar._

_Thank you as always to my fabulous betas: __**Erynnar, Piceron, VioletTheirin**__ and __**MireliAmbar**__ without whose help I would never have been able to get this far._

_Huge shoutout to Erynnar who suggested the mage lanterns/magic runes below. A device of her own creation that can be found in her story __**Soulmates**__, I can only hope that I have done it justice here as well. Thank you my friend, for such a brilliant suggestion to help me out of a dark place as it were!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

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Eleanor bit back a groan as she slowly and carefully moved into position. She had refused to take any more of the health potions that Mallol had given her two days before, arguing that they would be needed more during their escape attempt. Now, as the wagon in which they were incarcerated continued down the bump-plagued road, evening was again upon them as she waited for Rory to give her the signal. _Maker guide our path ...,_ she prayed.

Eleanor and Rory had discovered during the daylight hours that their wagon was the last in the caravan, bringing up the rear, with only two guards trailing behind. With that determined, they had then moved themselves towards the front of the wagon, their goal being to work a couple of boards loose on the floor. They had checked it carefully, quietly to be sure they could fit through the opening. Eyeballing it, Eleanor was certain she could make it. Rory was not so sure, but he was at least willing to give it a go. Their hope was that by escaping closer to the front of the wagon, by the time it traveled over their bodies, the boards would be back in place and Mallol would be able to begin her distraction, affording the teyrna and her guard the opportunity to run with little or no detection. It had also been decided that they would wait until night had fallen and while the caravan was still moving towards Denerim so that it would be easier for them to escape into the darkness before they would be found out.

During the stop on their second night on the road, Eleanor and the others were allowed to exit the wagon briefly to "avail themselves of the facilities." This had caused the teyrna to smirk and mutter to Mallol as she helped the priest, "Ogle us is more like!" Upon her return to the wagon from the nearby trees, Eleanor had seen Rory being led away for his opportunity. They passed briefly, pausing beside each other just long enough for Eleanor to lean towards him and hiss, "I need a distraction." His soft grunt of reply was barely noticeable above the jeering of the Howe soldiers.

Eleanor had just neared the wagon, assisting Mallol to lean against the wall when she heard an alarmed shout from one of the guards. Turning just enough that she could peek to her side, she saw Rory lying on the ground near the tree line, the three remaining guards from their cart (for the other ones were further up the road and in the same process) hurrying to assist their compatriot. "Now, my lady!" Mallol hissed a moment later, reminding Eleanor of her true purpose.

Stepping towards the front of the wagon, Eleanor peeked around the edge, determined that the coast was indeed clear, and reached behind the bench that the guards sat upon as the wagons were pulled. She moved quickly, almost frantically, but soon managed to pull up what she had been hoping to find: a smaller version of one of the mage lanterns used at the Circle. Relying on magical rune stones for their energy source, Eleanor flipped the lighting mechanism over, found the latch and removed the palm sized rune from the device. She slid the rune in between her shirt and her cuirass, tucking it safely into the specially designed pocket she had inserted years before, and then quickly returned the lantern behind the bench.

"Ellie, come _on_!" Mallol hissed, urging her friend to return.

Eleanor moved quickly, much more so than the guards would ever suspect from an older and injured woman, returning to the priest's side. Hunching slightly until she appeared as she had before, Eleanor whispered, "Got it," before turning her gaze to see two of the guards leading Rory back to the cart with more force than was necessary. Moments later, she and Mallol were returning to the dark interior as well. As soon as the wagon was moving again, and the guards had fallen back towards the rear of the vehicle, Eleanor crawled to Rory's side to assess the damage. Some of the fading rays of the sun managed to peek through the cracks of the wooded siding and roof, giving the teyrna enough light to see the new damage: a cheek that was rapidly swelling, blood trickling down the young man's neck, and his arm again cradled to his chest. "Rory -"

"You were successful?" he managed roughly, cutting off her dismayed sigh.

"I was," she replied, pulling the rune from the pocket of her armor, tapping it once to activate the dim light. With an additional double tap to deactivate it, she returned it to the pocket.

Rory nodded. He had not known at the time what his diversion was for, but he had suspected it had to do with their escape attempt. "Good," he breathed, turning slightly to ease his arm further away from the floor. He felt a small vial being pressed into his good hand. Realizing immediately what it was, he pushed it back and said, "No!"

Eleanor leaned forward. "You know I will need your assistance when we escape," she told him firmly. "I need you well to do that. Drink it down ... now!" When still he was reluctant, she added, "That is an order, Ser Gilmore!"

"Yes, your ladyship," he muttered, lifting the vial, pulling the cork with his teeth and spitting it aside, and then downing the contents.

Eleanor nodded, reaching out to touch the shoulder of the injured arm. She could see the swelling of the cheek reducing almost immediately. After several more minutes, he was able to sit up on his own, albeit gingerly, and lean some pressure upon the injured arm. "Ribs too?" she asked softly. He nodded. "Get some rest, Rory," she told him. "We'll try this tomorrow night if necessary."

Rory shook his head. "No," he insisted, "tonight. It must be tonight. The closer to Denerim we get, the less chance of success we will have."

Placing a hand to his good shoulder, Eleanor pushed him back gently until he was lying down once more. "Then you must rest," she told him. "I need you well rested." She saw him smile before closing his eyes obediently as a child would for his mother.

* * *

When evening fell, the only cause for concern that Eleanor still fretted over was their lack of weaponry. Somehow, if she and Rory did manage to get free of their captors, they would have to find a means of defending themselves. Eleanor shook her head, pushing the thought away. _One problem at a time!_

Mallol, now sitting towards the middle of the wagon near the one door that was bolted, turned to nod at Eleanor and Rory. In that last, dimly-lit shared look, Eleanor felt a sharp pain to her chest. _Goodbye, my friend ..., _she saw in Mallol's eyes. Eleanor wanted to reach out, to pull her good friend along with her, but she knew that given the severity of Mallol's injured leg, the woman would be doomed. "Now, my lady!" Rory hissed softly as he lifted the loosened board for her.

Nodding, swallowing her misery, her nerves and her fear, Eleanor slid through the opening, carefully maneuvering her way around the front axle until she was on the ground. She felt Rory's legs sliding through the opening barely before she was through, and mere moments after she hit the ground and began curling her body into a crouched, balled-up position, she heard Mallol begin yelling through the wagon door ...

The touch and scent of fresh air were what caught Eleanor's attention at first. Slowly, she lifted her head and glanced around. Their wagon only had two men on foot beside it, and both had hurried at the sound of Mallol's voice. Now some twenty feet away from her and still moving, Eleanor remained still, looking up at Rory who was approximately half that distance from the wagon. Thankfully, he was facing her, his eyes locked on to her like a hawk in the moonless night. Eleanor shook her head, lifted her hand and made a motion to stay still, to which he nodded slightly. Watching as the wagon continued to move, hearing the guards arguing with Mallol, counting silently as the time passed, Eleanor finally had to bite the her lip to keep herself from moving too soon.

As the wagon neared sixty feet distant and out of visual sight in the darkness, Eleanor began moving very, very slowly to her knees, pulling her feet beneath her as she balanced her weight upon them, ready to run at a moment's notice. Rory she saw waited a moment longer, until she nodded at him to do the same. Then, with a gesture of her hand towards the south, they slowly rose to their feet and moved into the tree line along the side of the road. Once there, they paused for a long moment, waiting, listening, _praying_ that no one yet noticed ...

Turning suddenly, Rory reached for Eleanor's arm and whispered urgently, "We must go, your Grace! They will figure this out soon enough!"

Eleanor nodded, understanding, but unable to move for a moment longer, her emotions surging as she realized what she was leaving behind ...

She had just started following Rory through their wooded area when they both froze momentarily, the eruption of shouting voices drawing nearer by the minute. Eleanor felt her breath catch in her lungs as she reached out, struggling to find Rory. The one advantage that they had was that it was even darker inside the tree line than out on the road. But that advantage in protecting them was a disadvantage in moving: they could not see where to go, and she did not dare pull out the lantern rune just yet.

When Eleanor's arm finally touched onto Rory, he grasped her hand and led the teyrna further into the darkness. He managed to get them both hidden behind a larger tree trunk and out of sight as the sounds of soldiers closed in on them. Pressing Eleanor between the tree and himself, Rory did what he could to hide her lighter colored armor with his own darker splintmail. He could hear the voices closing in and looked around for any potential weapons. _A tree branch? A large rock? It would help if I could see, but if we pull out that rune, we will only give away our position ..._

Eleanor felt Rory at her back and wanted to cry. How many times had Bryce done the same for her, either physically, emotionally or otherwise? _Bryce, my darling, I know you watch over us! Keep us safe ... ask the Maker to guide our steps, our hands and light our paths ... _ She felt Rory's hand at her shoulder, lightly squeezing to let her know how close the enemy soldiers were to their proximity.

Rory was about to tighten his hand again when he heard the voices trailing after them beginning to shout excitedly and move more quickly through the wooded area ... in the opposite direction. He felt the teyrna stiffen slightly and realized that she too had noticed. "Wait," he breathed softly near her ear. He felt her nod her acquiescence.

After several long minutes had passed without the voices returning, Rory stepped back from Eleanor and stepped quietly around the edge of the tree. Though his eyes were now used to the dark, he could see nothing moving in the direction the soldiers had taken. Turning back to the teyrna, he said quietly, "We need to move now. Do you still have the rune?"

"Yes," she replied, pulling the stone from her armor. She tapped it once and it began emitting a soft glow. It was enough for them to see the forest floor and avoid the worst of the hazards there. She felt Rory guide her ahead of him slightly, his hand on her shoulder to help guide her or give her a signal to stop, go or turn. They traveled this way for what seemed to be a long while, but just how long she never knew. Periodically, they would have to stop, tap off the rune, and fall back into the shadows whenever they heard noises that they could not easily identify.

They finally reached the edge of the wooded area. Eleanor tapped the stone to dim the light and replaced it in her cuirass as they neared the edge. Cautiously, she and Rory approached the open area, remaining just inside the shadows until they could survey the landscape ahead of them. In the distance, Eleanor could see the hints of daylight beginning to wind and snake its way across the horizon. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Rory pointing towards their right. "We should head south," he said quietly.

"Where are we do you think?" she queried.

"I think they had just made the turn east towards Denerim," Rory said. "I think we are on the northern edge of the Bannorn, but near enough to Lake Calenhad to find settlements." He glanced around again. "Our first goal should be finding some weapons," he added. "Then we can focus on food, supplies and shelter."

Eleanor nodded. She was leaning against a tree heavily, now that the urgency of their escape had faded somewhat she could feel the horror of what had happened creeping back upon her. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to breathe evenly though her nose, but she was struggling.

"My lady, are you all right?"

It took all of the inner strength that she had left in her to keep from crying out. _Later,_ she promised herself. _I will grieve for what I have lost later_. Forcing her eyes open, Eleanor found Rory standing before her, his concerned gaze surveying her for injuries. "I - I am not injured," she finally managed, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm and squeezing it reassuringly. Moving to stand beside him, she said, "I will be fine. As you said, we must keep moving. We must find shelter and supplies."

Rory nodded before turning to lead her out of the forested area and to the south.


	5. Chapter 4

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: Piceron, jenncgf, roxfox62, I Am Cousland and nubbins. Thank you!_

_Thanks also to my wonderful betas who mean the world to me! All are fabulous authors as well - please go check out their stories! __**Erynnar, MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin**__ and __**Piceron**__. Thank you, thank you, thank you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

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Rory swore he would remember that first day of freedom as the longest day of his life for as long as the Maker kept him alive. They made their way south slowly, carefully, sticking to patches of trees, brush and any other growth that could help them hide in daylight as they were not sure how many, if any, people might be following them. Their first night they spent in a wooded area without weapons, blankets or equipment of any kind. Rory took watch first, allowing Eleanor the chance to sleep, as fitful as it may have been, before she finally rose and took over so he could rest for a while.

The days that followed were much the same. Though they did not know their exact location yet, Rory suspected they were crossing Bann Loren's lands. They saw no soldiers or other evidence of military defense. "Which makes sense," Rory pointed out, "as they all should be at Ostagar with King Cailan."

Eleanor shuddered at that thought. She and Bryce had given permission for Lysette to go there with Duncan, to become a Grey Warden in order for her to escape and remain free from Howe and his treachery. And Fergus and the other Highever men, what of them? Had Howe gotten to them? Were they still alive? Had anyone even noticed that Bryce and the rest of the Highever troops had yet to arrive?

Rory saw the teyrna beginning to fall back into her sorrows once again and rallied her. "We need to move on, my lady," he told her. "We are several days yet from Lake Calenhad."

Eleanor nodded. What was a few more days when added to the twelve that they already had been wandering. "Where do you think we should go for assistance?" she asked him.

"I suggest we begin with Rainesfere," he replied. "Bann Teagan I know will offer us any assistance we need. We should start with him."

Eleanor nodded, but silently wondered how they would be able to make it to Rainesfere without some sort of help before then. Already they were two weeks into their journey and barely surviving, though they did at least have weapons now. Somehow along their travels, Rory found a weapon and a shield (though crudely made, it served its purpose), as well as a bow and a partially filled quiver for Eleanor. The teyrna did not asked how he obtained the weapons: they had separated shortly before one of the larger populated area they neared, Rory insisting that it would be easier for him to approach and go unidentified than her. Eleanor did not protest at the time as she was utterly exhausted. While they were apart, she remained in a small cluster of trees near the edge of a field, taking the opportunity to rest.

Upon his return, Rory brought the weapons and some food, such as it was. _Never has bread and dried meat tasted so good_, Eleanor thought as she nibbled at it. She had survived through worse conditions than this, for a much longer period of time some thirty years before, and the memory was still there - the lack of food, the poor quality of what they did find, ... the hunger - but she had no desire to relive anything like that ever again. Her weariness still holding on to her, she could not help but wonder, _Did I take it all for granted since then? Is the Maker trying to teach me a lesson? Am I being punished for some wrong I committed? _Eleanor shook her head to dispel the vicious thoughts and memories. Her appetite suddenly on the wan, she ate only a small amount before handing the rest over to Rory. At his questioning gaze, she insisted, "You have it. You need it more than I."

"No, my lady," he told her as he lifted the food that he had for himself. "You need to eat that, to regain your strength. You have not been eating as you should when you have the opportunity and you must! We have a long way to go and you will need it, particularly since we do not know when we will next have the chance to eat. I have plenty for myself here." He saw her lift her brow, staring hard at the small amount he had in hand, but he was insistent. He took his hand and pushed her portion back towards her body. "I will be fine. It is you I am concerned about."

Eleanor closed her eyes and sat back, her inner turmoil trying to get the best of her again. "Rory, ... I -"

Rory had just glanced back in the direction from which he had come, keeping an eye out for anyone who might have decided to follow. As the teyrna began to speak, he turned back to face her, and noticed immediately the change in her. When she began to speak, he reached out and grasped her arm, pulling her up, towards him. "Don't!" he told her insistently, almost angrily. "Do not give up! You cannot give up, my lady! Would you go back on the promise you made to me? To Mother Mallol? To the Teyrn himself?" He saw the pain flash across her eyes at the memory of her friend, still held prisoner; at the thought of her dead husband. "Do not waste the sacrifice they made for you! You _cannot give up!_"

Eleanor felt her breath catch in her chest at his words, at the harshness behind them. Looking up into his sea green gaze, she could see anger, frustration and above all else determination there. She felt sudden tremors begin working their way through her, her grief and pain trying valiantly to gain the upper hand, but she focused on her companion's eyes and found a strength and determination there, something that she had relied on once, in similar circumstances, and she now tried to find that within herself once again. Swallowing her distress for the time being, she nodded at him and whispered, "I - I won't ..."

Rory released her arm then, more gently than the manner in which he had captured it, and began rising to his feet as he finished off his food. "Finish up, my lady, and then we shall move on." He saw her nod, lifting it to her mouth, before he turned to watch the road again. As he did this, he thought of Teyrn Cousland, of how he might have handled the situation had he been present.

_It goes against all that I am, all that I know, to be that harsh to her, my lord_, he said silently to the man who had raised him like a son from the time he was eleven. _But what else can I do? I know you went through this before, thirty years ago: you have told me the stories, taught me your lessons well enough, but ..._

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Eleanor rising to her feet. As she stepped to his side, he smiled gently. The change in her was amazing: gone was the despair, the pain, the look of inevitable depression and failure. In its place he saw determination. The color had come back to her cheeks and she was now sporting the bow and quiver he had given her. "We should go," she said softly. "It will be dark soon and we will need to find a place to camp."

Rory nodded, sending a final thought to the man he had looked up to for so many years. _I promise I will keep her safe for you, my lord. _"Right," he replied as he led the way, "let's go." _Whatever it takes, I promise you I will keep her safe._

_

* * *

_

They had been on the run for well over two weeks by the time that they reached Lake Calenhad. Still worried about their identities being recognized, they continued to skirt most of the inhabited areas that they came across, relying mostly on what they could scrounge or capture out in the wild for food. They even chose to by-pass the Lake Calenhad docks as they neared Kinloch Hold and the Circle Tower, traveling around the north end of the lake on their way to Rainesfere. They knew that they could not chance being recognized by anyone who could report them to Howe or his men, let alone any random Howe soldiers who might be roaming around looking for them.

Though he had traveled these areas numerous times before with the teyrn, Fergus and other Highever men, Rory discovered it all looked very different from the perspective of a fugitive. He found that he was not so much second guessing himself as he was just plain worried. The weapons skills he had learned over the years would serve him well. It was the battlefield techniques and strategies for battling in formations, in large groups, that he knew would have to be tossed out the window should he and the teyrna end up facing off against an enemy.

Their camps were small and unlit for the most part. They scrounged up an old and tattered horse blanket that they would share of an evening from an abandoned barn they came upon during their travels, one that could be used by the one not on duty as they slept. When a campfire was necessary, it was small and used only for cooking the day's catch so that they had food that could be carried with them the next day.

When Rory would take the watch, which he tried to do as often as possible to allow Eleanor more opportunity to rest, he often found himself turning his thoughts towards silent discussions with the teyrn. Having been raised in the Cousland household, Rory had been schooled with Lysette and Fergus by Aldous, and before the fall of Highever had kept a personal journal more out of habit than for the actual information contained within, but it was a routine that he found he was missing now that he no longer had it available to him. Instead, Rory found that, even though it was one-sided, replacing that routine with his silent conversations with Bryce Cousland served a similar purpose.

This night, they had camped in a lightly forested area along the northwestern edge of the lake. They made camp just before nightfall, taking advantage of the darkness to bathe quickly for the first time in a long while. Then, after a shared meal of left over rabbit which they had caught the night before, plus some wild carrots and raspberries they had found that afternoon, Rory had taken position for watch while Eleanor settled in against the trunk of a large tree.

Rory watched silently as his lady struggled to find rest. Each evening since the night of the attack, he had watched over his lord's wife with a careful eye. He knew he needed to find someone to help, someone to take them in and provide them with the proper nutrition and security that they needed in order to maintain their health, for Eleanor was beginning to waste away before his eyes.

_My lord,_ Rory started this evening as he eyed his lady's efforts to settle in, _I am at a loss as to what I should do. I cannot keep dragging her through the wilderness with little to nothing for us to eat; the threat of discovery at every turn. I do not think she will survive the journey to Rainesfere, the one location I know where we will find safety and assistance willingly given. _

Rory turned away and wandered to the edge of the tree line where he could turn and look up at the moon and the stars shining down upon them. _I must find help. Each day without it, Teyrna Eleanor grows closer and closer to despair. Should she take that turn, I will not know what to do._

There was a rustle in the tree limbs above, and Rory searched to find a bird settling upon one. In the dark he could not identify the creature, though he could tell it was a large animal. _I need your guidance, my lord. I will not watch her give up on herself or her life when she can be saved._ Glancing back over his shoulder at Eleanor's now sleeping form, Rory's gaze softened slightly. _You both became my foster parents, treated me as your own, and the only thing I can do now is honor your memory by keeping her safe from harm. She is a strong woman, but she has gone through so much ... I fear for her safety ..._

Some time later, Eleanor roused herself and made her way to Rory's side. As she approached, she found him staring out over the lake. At first she thought he might be sleeping on his feet, but she soon saw that he was aware of her approach as he turned to face her. With a tired smile, she told him, "Go rest, Rory. I will wake you in a while."

Rory nodded, his last thoughts as he walked towards their camp, _How do I keep you safe, my lady? _


	6. Chapter 5

_Thanks to all of my readers, reviewers and lurkers, as well as those setting favs and alerts including: roxfox62, jenncgf, Erynnar, Piceron, Nithu, Tebn, Vixen's Shadow, I am Cousland and Zeeji._

_Thank as always to my fabulous betas: __**Piceron, VioletTheirin, MireliAmbar**__ and __**Erynnar**__ without whose help and assistance I would be lost! Please check out their stories - they are wonderful writers on their own accounts!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_** Special thanks to SurelyForth for helping me sort out Anders' latter escape attempt(s) (chronologically) so that I could get the timing down for this one! And to VioletTheirin with some of the Anders dialogue! You guys ROCK!_

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She was absolutely freezing, and it was mostly due to the cold, rainy weather. Well, that and the thin robes she was dressed in. No matter what she did - huddling, crouching, pulling her cloak close - she could not get warm ... Well, that was not quite true. She could not get warm no matter what she did _by traditional means._

_But you are not a traditional person_, she reminded herself silently as she remained hidden. _That is why they came for you ... collared you ... caged you. "You are dangerous!" they said. "You must be kept away from 'normal' people so that you do not hurt them, or others." _She shifted slightly in the brush, crouching lower so that no one could see her, her skills hidden deep inside so that no one could locate her.

_Anders, where are you?_

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The next morning proved to be stormy with dark clouds, heavy rain and a raging, howling wind. Under the darkened skies, they moved very slowly and quietly. They had both agreed that they would sacrifice time for safety in their travels, for neither knew when their escape would be made known to Rendon Howe, or what efforts might be made to recapture them. In this weather, even that level of progress had been halved.

They had finally rounded the northern edge of Lake Calenhad that morning and were making their way south when they came upon a small village. Observing it from a hilltop just outside the boundary, Rory observed quietly, "I see a dock, some small shacks, perhaps they have a store."

Eleanor glanced over at him. "We cannot afford much."

"No," he returned, "but it would mean that there is a gathering place and I might be able to find out news..."

It was settled that Eleanor would remain upon the hilltop, hidden while Rory descended into the village. Just before he left her side, Eleanor reached up around her neck, removing the silverite chain that had been hidden beneath her armor. "Rory, take this," she told him, placing the amulet into his hand and closing his fingers around it. "It may be of some use if you can bargain for supplies with it."

Frowning, Rory lifted his hand to find that he recognized the pendant. "My lady ... are you certain?" he asked. He remembered the day that Teyrn Bryce had given her the gift. She had called it a "trinket" though he had understood by the look she had given her husband at the time that it meant much more. The thought of using one of few remaining connections that she had with memories of her beloved husband nearly froze him to the spot.

"I am positive," she told him quietly, sincerely. "Bryce would have my hide if we could use it to barter for things we needed in order to survive and did not do so. I am sure when I meet him in the Fade he will chastise me for waiting so long to use it," she added with a small, but pained, smile. "Please," she added, "you know we must do this."

Lifting his gaze to hers, he told her, "I will use it only if I must," he promised, knowing full well that he would not use it at all unless they had items that would substantially aid their quest.

Eleanor watched her young companion descend the hill into the village, her thoughts turning inward. _Bryce, my love, I fear you would be ashamed of me and my despair,_ she thought as she searched for a place to sit and wait. _I know that I am. I am at such a loss without you ... what am I to do? Rory is doing what he can, despite my horrid behavior ..._

Eleanor's misery was great, but not so much that she did not hear the soft sneeze coming from the brush nearby. Quietly arming herself with her bow, she stepped towards the area where the sound had come from, her aim focused, her bow drawn. "Come on out where I can see you," she ordered firmly.

* * *

Rory dropped the items he had brought and drew his sword immediately when he returned atop the hill to find they teyrna missing from their agreed rendez-vous location. _Andraste's arse!_ he cursed himself. _I should have taken her with me! If something has happened to her -_

"Rory, I'm here."

He turned to his left, well spun around really, his sword and shield at the ready though he recognized Eleanor's voice. His gaze narrowed when he saw that she was not alone. Stepping forward, he opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced when the teyrna lifted her hand. Nodding, he lowered his weapons, though still held them at the ready, and waited.

In the brief moment he was able to eye the newcomer, he noted several things: she wore mages robes; her eyes were the palest blue, like the sky on a clear day; and her long dark hair that was pulling free from a braid down her back contained bits of leaves and twigs as if she had been hiding in the bushes. Easing his stance just a bit more, he also saw she had a few scratches along her cheeks, but nothing that appeared to be serious.

Eleanor turned to face him. "Rory, this is Myra Surana. She and a friend are fleeing the Tower."

Rory eyed his lady for a moment. He knew of her dislike of the Circle; both she and the teyrn had made their position on mages quite clear shortly after his arrival at Highever. "My lady," he began gently, for he was not opposed to the idea because they were mages, but for the danger they might bring, "you do realize, do you not, that if we join together it will bring the wrath of the Chantry and the Templars down upon us as well? They will be considered apostates, and we will be punished for not turning them in ..."

And in the next moment, Rory's thoughts were all forgotten as the young woman spoke, her voice soft, silvery voice saying, "It is doubtful that the Circle will even notice our absence given Uldred's rebellion."

_A rebellion?_ Rory thought with a frown of confusion. _What is going on over there? Aren't the Templars supposed to keep things like that from happening? How can they succumb to a revolution, and allow escapes ...?_

"Rory," Eleanor said quietly while interrupting his thoughts, "they need our assistance, and we can certainly use theirs. Both are healers, though from what Myra has told me, her friend has offensive magic as well."

His frown deepened. "My lady, you know as well as I do that we do not stand a chance against Templars!" he explained as patiently as he could. "And whether they escaped undetected or not, the Templars _will_ find that they are missing at some point and -"

"Your friend is right," Myra's soft voice broke in. "This is Anders' sixth try at escaping, and each time they have found him. Should they catch him again, I fear for what they might do to him. I ... I am sorry to have imposed upon you as I did, my lady. We will find our way ourselves -"

Eleanor shook her head. "No! I refuse to accept it. You will come with us," she insisted, giving the younger woman a hard, no-nonsense look. She reached a hand out to touch the elf's shoulder, to emphasize her commitment but was stopped at the sound of a harsh male voice as it demanded, "Release her now, or I swear by the Maker that a couple of angry Templars would be a more welcome sight than what I shall unleash upon you."

* * *

Given his past attempts at escape and the lack of success he had with them, it came as no surprise to Anders to find upon his return that Myra had been discovered. His initial observation had him wondering who these people were, however, as it became immediately clear that they were not Templars.

He noted that Myra was quick to jump into the fray. He watched her step around the older woman and in front of the armed soldier, spreading her hands wide, declaring, "Anders, no! They are on the run like we are!"

"Oh? Is that what they told you?" Anders challenged, his stance one that was clearly ready for battle, the magic beginning to spark from his fingertips. "How are we to know that they won't just lead us right into a whole army of Templars? When you are on the run you can trust no one...I should know, Myra! Didn't I tell you not to reveal yourself to anyone?"

"Anders," she added, her voice the ever soft tones she had been using, "calm down! The Templars in the Tower will _notice_ that magic is being used and come after you, me, all of us! You would be sending up a signal they will not miss!" She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. "Please, be sensible! Would I lie to you about something like this?"

Anders stared down at her for a very long moment. They were good friends, closer than many in the Tower who were only friends and nothing more. They had a deep understanding between them as well that had developed from the day that Myra had appeared in the Tower and Anders had taken her under his wing. "You are sure?" he asked one last time.

Myra glanced up at her longtime friend and nodded solemnly. "Anders, let it go _now_ before someone notices!" she repeated, placing a hand on his arm. She felt the electrical charge that had flared begin to recede, and she smiled at him. Turning, she made introductions. "Anders, this is the Lady Eleanor Cousland," she pointed over towards the teyrna who, she noticed, nodded at Anders with a warm smile upon her face, "and this is her companion, Roland Gilmore." She watched the soldier as he blinked and glanced down at her for the briefest of moments, clearly realizing that she knew his name and they had not been formally introduced. Taking a deep breath, she told her new friends, "This is Anders. As I told you before, we are seeking to escape the Tower. If you allow us to travel with you, at least for a time, we will help as we can."

Eleanor moved forward then and nodded, stepping beside Rory and giving him a sharp look. "We would be very appreciative of your assistance," she told them both. "But I suspect that, given our proximity to the Tower, and these Templars of whom you spoke, we should be changing locations, yes?"

Rory finally broke his silence and nodded. "Yes, my lady, we should. I was able to ascertain directions from a conversation I overheard in town. We are but a few days from Rainesfere, I should think."


	7. Chapter 6

_Thank you to all of my readers, reviewers and lurkers, as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: roxfox62, jenncgf, I am Cousland, Hirdas, Piceron, Erynnar and Mi'lae l'Batir._

_I am proud to have four fabulous betas who are also wonderful authors: __**MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin, Erynnar**__ and __**Piceon**__. Please check out their stories as well! _

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ I have yet another story that I have been working on for a few months already that will begin publication beginning on Friday (I hope!). It is a fem. Cousland/Nathaniel Howe piece that has been bugging at me for a while now, and I am very excited about it. The tentative title is __**Torn Asunder**__, but this may change before I publish. The piece is somewhat AU since it begins before Awakenings, and takes place in a different Cousland universe. I hope you will join me for that adventure as well!_

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After Anders' initial reluctance to join the party, and Myra's quick resolution of the situation, the foursome were able to get past their initial difficulties and focus on the problems at hand.

Rory's immediate concern was to get the group sufficiently removed from the location of the Tower so that the chances of accidentally being discovered by Templars was reduced. After a brief discussion with Anders regarding the mage's offensive capabilities, Rory took point, the two women behind him, and Anders bringing up the rear. They traveled in silence for the most part, speaking only when necessary.

It was as they stopped just after mid-day that Eleanor approached Rory and began speaking softly with him. "What were you able to purchase in town?"

Rory sighed. He had hoped to have more time before having to deal with this, but he knew that whether it was sooner or later, she would find out. Sitting beside her in the shade of the tree line, he reached for his pack and began pulling items out. "I was able to purchase some foodstuffs that will be good for traveling," he replied quietly. "Hardtack, dried jerkey, dried berries and the like." He handed some of the named items to her as he spoke. "Eat, my lady."

Eleanor reached out and patted his shoulder. "I know you did not want to do it, my friend," she said quietly, "but it was necessary and I do not hold it against you."

He was busily pulling out additional items. "I did not know we would need more than these at the time," he murmured, "but I managed to procure two heavy traveling cloaks as well. I think you and the young lady should use them for now."

Eleanor was about to respond when she heard soft footsteps approaching. Turning, she found Myra and Anders, both coming from the direction of the nearby creek. "My lady," Myra said softly, "I have filled some canteens Anders was able to obtain. Please, you both should have one as well."

Eleanor nodded her thanks and took a long drink while hearing Rory query, "Obtain?"

Anders snorted and responded, "What she means is 'stole' I suppose, but they were left lying out beside a hut in plain view. No telling who the owners were, right?"

Eleanor just managed to keep from choking on her drink as she passed the canteen to Rory. After swallowing and clearing her throat, she glanced at the young man who seemed to be around Rory's age and replied, "No, no telling at all I suppose. However, Anders?" She waited for him to look at her. "We really should not make that a habit. Not only is it stealing, but it might also give our location away."

The mage sighed as he took a seat beside the teyrna and muttered reluctantly, "Yes, my lady," but there was an impish spark in his eye and Eleanor knew that he was sincere and would abide by her request.

After a brief rest, a small meal, and personal issues taken care of, the party gathered their belongings and set out on foot heading south. As they continued, Eleanor became aware that they were heading into the Frostback Mountains. This in itself would not have caused a problem, but combined with the recent loss of her husband, and the fact that the last time she had been here was with him, the teyrna began withdrawing into herself.

Myra was the first to notice, though she suspected that Rory knew as well. It was the evening of their fourth day together and they had made camp in the mountains. When Rory had suggested a cave that they discovered nearby, Eleanor simply requested that they find a place outdoors if at all possible. Since the captivity at Howe's hands, she explained, she preferred not to be housed in. Myra had observed the man-at-arms closely as he had processed this and noticed that concern had filled his eyes immediately. When they finally made camp, and the teyrna had retired for the evening, Anders following close behind, Myra remained at the fire while Rory began his stint on watch.

The night was cool, certainly more so than at the lower altitudes, but Anders had insisted she take the cloak (he had also managed to scrounge some blankets when he found the canteens). After a short while to allow the others to settle down for the evening, Myra finally rose and searched out Rory.

"Your lady is falling into a depression, you do know this, yes?" she asked as she neared his position.

Rory had heard her approach, but only after he caught the soft scent of roses that she apparently used when washing her hair. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "It is a very complicated situation, ... and on in which I will admit I am not qualified to help."

Myra heard the unvoiced plea and nodded. "I will do what I can, Ser Gilmore," she promised. "What can you tell me that might assist?"

Rory sighed heavily and walked over near her, seating himself upon a large boulder. He patted the space beside him and told her, "This could take a while. I would make yourself comfortable if you can."

Myra nodded, moving to sit near him. She wondered briefly if he might be willing to answer some more personal questions at a later time, mostly because his reaction (or lack thereof) to her as both a mage and elf was confounding her. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she turned her attention back to the story he was about to tell her. Their first night together, Rory had pulled both Anders and Myra aside to inform them of what had occurred at Highever recently so that they would be careful to avoid certain topics of discussion.

"Quite a number of years ago,*****" he began, "during the Rebellion against the Orlesians, my lady Eleanor met her future husband, Bryce Cousland." He glanced down at her and saw her nod of acknowledgement. "At the time, he was not teyrn, though that changed soon thereafter when his father passed. Bryce and his brother, Iain, fought at the battle of White River, along with Arl Rendon Howe and Arl Leonas Bryland. After the battle, my lord was severely injured, and it was the lady Eleanor who found him and nurtured him back to health."

Rory turned his gaze to check on the teyrna for a moment, reassuring himself that she was safe. "Shortly after finding him, my lady's father's home was set upon by Orlesian chevaliers who were intent upon rounding up those few rebels who had survived the battle. Both my lady and the teyrn were on the run across Ferelden for a very long time."

"Where did they travel?" Myra asked, though she had suspicions.

"They first went south, brushing near the Korcari Wilds, but not entering, until they entered the Frostbacks from the south." Rory rose to his feet. This part of the story was uncomfortable for him, mostly because it had been overheard and not information that was given directly to him. _My lord, forgive my breaking of confidences ... but this is to help the teyrna!_

Myra rose too, moving to his side. Quietly, she slid an arm around his, lacing her fingers with his to give him silent support. She felt him jump at the contact, but a glance told her it was not because of who and what she was, but just from being startled from his thoughts. "I will tell no one else," she promised.

"Their journey was long and difficult," he told her. "They were in the mountains traveling by foot for almost a year, with little food, barely acceptable shelter and no one but each other for comfort. During that time ... the teyrna became pregnant." Rory shook his head, turning so that Myra could not see the wave of emotion that overwhelmed him.

"Rory?"

"The teyrn ... he told me that my lady became so ... thin, he feared for both her and the child," Rory finally whispered. "But their son was born, and the three survived ... until they exited the mountains, near where we entered."

Myra sensed from his tone, from his words, that something had gone very wrong. Frowning slightly, she turned to face him, waiting for him to look at her. "I will assume it was the child that was lost as the teryn only recently passed?"

Rory nodded, turning to look down at her. As he did, his thoughts swimming in compassion and sympathy for his foster family, he found himself marveling at the simple beauty of the woman who stood before him. She did not know him, nor the Couslands, in any formal way, yet she had a caring and giving nature, one that he had seen first hand over the past few days as she had assisted him in watching out and caring for the lady Eleanor. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he tilted her head so she was looking directly at him as he told her, "A stray Orlesian crossbow bolt killed the child, injured the teryn and nearly destroyed their relationship. I suspect that lady Eleanor's return to the mountains, this time without the teyrn, is bringing back many memories she might not want to face just yet."

Myra nodded. She could understand that all too well. "Thank you for telling me," she told him, lifting her hand to take his in her own. She glanced down at the sheer size difference between their hands, and smiled. "I will do what I can to help, Rory," she said repeating her earlier promise. "I think, however, that the larger problem may be in convincing her that she should accept that help."

Rory sighed again. "Yes," he agreed, "that will most definitely be the toughest task." He explained the several occasions that he had already extracted reluctant promises from the teyrna in this regard.

Smiling up at him, Myra observed, "She is a stubborn woman, I see. Perhaps she will come to realize just how important her survival is ... in relationship to your own, yes?" She saw his frown and she added, "Can you honestly tell me that you are not looking for an opportunity to sacrifice yourself for her?"

Rory blinked. _Am I that transparent?_ he wondered. "H-how did you know?"

It was Myra's turn to look away. "I will simply say that I have some ... personal experience in this," she replied. Then with a deep breath, she added, "Rory, I can relate all too well to your lady's situation. Oh," she clarified, "not with the loss of a husband - mages are not allowed to marry - but ... I too have been in a situation where I have lost a child, where I fell into the spiral of depression, and where I almost lost a dear friend who sacrificed himself in an effort to protect me." She swallowed past the lump in her throat before looking into his sea green eyes to see the question that resided there, but as she waited for him to ask, it took her long moments to realize that he would not. Relief washed through her then.

Rory observed her quietly for a time and finally nodded. "I think perhaps you more than anyone would be able to assist her." Then, as he found his concern for her growing, he asked, "If you feel you will be able to survive it?"

Myra smiled tiredly, knowing it did not reach her eyes. "Perhaps some day," she told him, "if you are indeed interested, I might be able to tell you. But not now..."

"As you wish," he told her. Then turning, he led her back to the camp. "Get some rest," he suggested softly. "Anders has agreed to take the next watch, the teyrna after him. I suspect you shall need all your energy to tackle Lady Eleanor in the morning."

Myra settled against the log she had sat upon for the evening meal, chuckling softly. "Yes," she agreed, "I suspect that I shall." With a final glance up at him, she told him, "Thank you, Rory. I promise, I will not fail you."

Rory knelt beside her, pulling the cloak around her small frame to protect her from the evening's chill. With a gentle smile, he replied, "I know you will not," before he rose and returned to his watch post. When next he glanced over at the camp, he found her asleep, the gentle rise and fall of her body with the deep breathing of sleep a welcome sight.

Retracing the path he had chosen for the evening, Rory turned his thoughts to his lord once more. _I am not quite sure if I have you or the Maker to thank for these recent turn of events,_ he began, _but I will thank you that you may pass it on should it be necessary, my lord. I know you and the teyrna were more lenient in your attitudes towards the mages, ... I can understand why if these two are representative of what one would find in their kind._

Rory paused a moment as he listened to the sounds of the night. When satisfied that the sounds were true, natural sounds that belonged, he continued along his path. _I still fear for the teyrna, however, though I now have an ... accomplice, if you will. We shall do our best to help her recover, to find her way in a world absent from you. My promise still remains: I shall do whatever is necessary to keep her safe._

_

* * *

_

Myra had thought to speak with Eleanor the next day, but her plans were altered with a serious challenge to their escape plans. As they descended the mountain on which they had camped, they found the enemy waiting for them.

"Templars!" Anders hissed, running back up the path. "At the foot of the path. I managed to stay out of sight, but they will know it is us the moment we appear."

Rory frowned as they moved back up the mountain a ways to keep hidden. "How will they know?"

"Our phylacteries," Myra explained. "They take blood from us when we arrive at the Tower and keep it should we ever try to escape. They use it with their own magic tracking abilities to identify us."

Eleanor frowned. "Surely we can -"

Anders shook his head and cut her off. "No, my lady, they won't. Trust me, I've seen people try, and it isn't a pretty sight. Besides," he added, "there is no way of knowing if these are Templars from the Tower or reinforcements sent for by the Knight Commander." At Myra's gasp, he turned. "You heard them as clear as I did that day - they sent for the Rite of Annulment."

Rory searched out Myra's gaze. "The Rite of Annulment means that the Circle is lost, all that remains are demon possessed mages and abominations. The Templars that are brought in will destroy what remains of the mages there, if any." She shuddered at the thought. Turning to Anders, she whispered, "We cannot go back!"

Anders was silent for a long moment before he turned and reached for his pack. After scrounging around inside of it for a while, he retrieved a couple of items which he placed in a pouch at his waist, then rose to his feet. Reaching for Myra's hand, he lifted her beside him and whispered, "Stay with them. I will do what I can to lead them away to the east, and keep you all safe from harm."

"Anders, no! We agreed to do this together!"

Anders gave her one of his quirky grins and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "My friend, we have done better than I ever truly had hope that we would. Stay with them, Myra," he insisted. "If I have the chance, I will destroy the phylacteries so that they cannot find us again."

Myra noticed then that she was crying as tears began splashing onto their joined hands. "Anders -"

"Hush," he told her, placing a finger at her lips. Turning towards Rory, he asked, "Will you take her, keep her safe?"

Rory nodded instantly. "Of course."

"Right then." Anders turned towards the teyrna. Lifting her hand to his lips, he told her, "My lady, it has been a pleasure." He then turned to Rory again and the men exchanged a warrior's grasp. "I will lead them as far from you as I can," he promised.

Then, with a final glance at his fellow mage, Anders began retracing his steps back down the path. When Myra began taking a few steps in his direction, Rory grasped her around the waist and pulled her back. "Don't!" he whispered near her ear.

"I - I can't let him do this!" she pleaded. "Not again!"

Rory glanced over at Eleanor. "We need to head further west I think before we turn south again. We must make use of the time that he can buy us!"

Eleanor nodded and reached for Myra's hand. "Come along, dear," she murmured.

Myra looked up at the teyrna helplessly. "But -"

"Myra, he wanted to do this so you would remain free. Do not let his sacrifice be in vain."

Myra allowed her gaze to lock onto the teyrna's then, and both women came to an understanding. Taking a deep breath, Myra swallowed her misery and nodded. "I ... I will ... if you promise to do the same!"

Eleanor broke her gaze from Myra's for a moment to look at Rory for a long moment. There she found a grim determination that backed up their young mage friend's. Returning to Myra, Eleanor found the girl's eyes and nodded. "I will do my best," she agreed.

Rory began herding them westward then, saying, "We must hurry and take advantage of the opportunity."

They continued westward for a day and a half before turning south. Three days later they arrived in Rainesfere.

* * *

*** **_This is a direct reference to the events I lined out in __**We Do What Must Be Done**__._


	8. Chapter 7

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set favs and alerts: jenncgf, Piceron, Erynnar, roxfox1962, Sukauto Doragon, AlineLopes and Lady Dayla._

_Thank you to my fabulous betas: __**MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin, Erynnar**__ and __**Piceron**__ without whose help I would not make it through the writing process. You ladies are fabulous, amazing and the "awesome sauce!"_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up..._

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After Anders' departure, Myra felt a keen sense of loss. For years, ever since her arrival at the Tower as a child, Anders had been her friend, offering an ear to listen, a joke to make her smile or laugh, a shoulder on which to cry or an embrace to keep her safe or make her feel protected. He had been there for her when times were good and when they were bad. Even given his numerous attempts at escape, he still managed to be at her side when she needed him most. As she thought on his latest efforts at protecting her, despite the pain in her heart, she realized that he had simply done what he would always do to protect her: run interference.

That evening after making camp and eating a small meal mostly of dried travel provisions, Myra watched silently as Rory headed off for first watch as he always would do. She sat back from the fire, relishing a warm cup of tea until Eleanor joined her. "Would you mind company for a while this evening?" the teyrna asked gently as the mage first poured and then handed her a cup of tea.

Myra smiled as she handed over the vessel. "Given our current situation," she returned, "I don't think I can be so choosy."

Eleanor smiled back at the younger woman. "No, I don't suppose so," she agreed.

Myra settled back, relaxing against a log. After a time, she asked, "My lady, would you be willing to answer some ... personal questions?"

Eleanor's brow lifted as she took a careful sip of her tea. "I suspect that will depend on the question and just how personal it is," she replied honestly.

With a nod of understanding, Myra began, "Rory mentioned once that you both were from Highever." She saw Eleanor nod in acknowledgement. "I have also noticed that neither of you appears to have any concerns in regards to traveling with mages, nor being seen with or around an elf like myself. I was curious as to why this is."

Eleanor sighed softly and took another drink as she organized her thoughts. "In response to the first part of your question, neither my husband nor myself agree -" Eleanor felt her heart constrict for a moment as she realized that she must now refer to Bryce in the past tense, "agree_d_ with the Chantry's assertions that mages are all on the brink of becoming abominations or are inherently dangerous." She almost laughed aloud at the startled look that crossed the younger woman's features. "Oh, we understood that some mages could be that way," she clarified quickly, "we simply did not agree that _all_ mages needed to be regarded as such as a standard rule." Taking another drink, her eyes clouding with sorrow, she smiled softly and added, "We had a healing mage for quite a number of years. Annalore was quite an exceptional healer, and a very good friend."

Myra heard the anguish in Eleanor's voice, glanced at her to see her breathing had picked up, the pained expression in her eyes. Based upon her previous discussions with Rory, Myra suspected that the teyrna was thinking back to recent happenings at Highever. Waiting patiently, Myra soon heard Eleanor take a deep breath, releasing it a moment later before saying quietly, "Unfortunately, like most of the people at the castle, she was lost early on when Howe attacked. Lysette and I had reached her rooms on the way to find Bryce, only to find ..." Eleanor's voice trailed off, leaving the younger woman to use her imagination to complete the thought.

Myra lowered her gaze and remained silent. Out of respect for her fellow mage and healer, she silently offered a quick prayer. After a time, she asked, "It ... eases my mind that you hold mages in such high regard," she murmured softly.

Eleanor hmmmed in agreement before saying, "I have no reason to change my opinion. I suppose I have come to appreciate having someone with your capabilities around. As for you being an elf, well," Eleanor smiled softly as Myra turned to look at her, "we have an alienage in Highever. Many of the staff at the castle were elves, as were a number of our soldiers. Bryce and I always tried to be encouraging, welcoming and respectful to them. To us, they were a part of our normal existence. We knew many did not hold to that, but we were not concerned with what others thought."

Hiding her smile behind the edge of her cup as she drank, Myra finally managed, "I am coming to understand that."

Eleanor chuckled. "Yes, my dear," she admitted, "I know that Bryce and I were rather ... unique in our ideas. But the other thing you have to remember," she added as she finished her tea, "is that we taught our children, our soldiers and our staff to believe the same thing." She saw Myra turn towards her again. With a smile, Eleanor said, "Rory believes the same because he was brought up within our household from the age of eleven. He learned these things along with my son and daughter. It has become a part of him as much as the rest of us." Rising, she set her cup aside near the fire before stretching her back. "I hope this all answers your questions?"

Myra nodded. "Yes, thank you my lady. I am sorry if I brought up any -"

Eleanor waved off the younger woman's words. "No, Myra. Do not be concerned with that. I must start speaking of things, accepting things, if I am to heal and move on, yes?"

The mage nodded and rose to her feet. "It is what I was taught to do."

Eleanor nodded as she searched Myra's eyes. "I suspect that you and I have much in common." She smiled warmly when she saw the mage's shock. "I will not push, my dear," she assured her. "However, should you ever wish to talk, I would be willing to listen. And with that," Eleanor added, "I will wish you a good night. I find that I am tiring much easier these days than I might have before, most likely due to our traveling and my ... advanced years."

Myra managed a laugh as Eleanor gave her a teasing grin. "I suspect you shall remain younger than all of us in your heart, my lady." She saw the teyrna blush slightly as she turned away. "Good evening, my lady."

Myra felt fidgety after Eleanor's departure, and found that she was having trouble settling down. Pouring another cup of tea for herself and one for Rory, she went in search of the man who had set himself up as their personal guard.

* * *

Rory turned at the sound of soft steps, knew from the soft breeze and the mild scent of elfroot and lyrium that it was Myra approaching. He smiled as she neared and handed him one of two cups of tea. "Thank you," he told her his voice quiet but ever polite.

Myra nodded and shrugged beneath her cloak searching for warmth now that she was up and moving and the breeze had picked up. "How much further do we have to get to Rainesfere, do you think?" she asked.

Rory blew on the drink to cool it before taking a careful sip. "Another day or two I believe," he told her. "But I may be mistaken. Given the way in which we have been traveling, it may take longer."

Myra nodded slightly. "Am I right to understand that you have ... connections there? That is why you chose it as your destination?"

Rory chuckled. Taking another sip, he continued, "Well, I suppose you could say that the teyrna has connections there. Bann Teagan is a family friend to the Couslands. If anyone would be able to help us, he would. Not only does he know the teyrna, but he is close friends with her son Fergus as well."

Myra nodded in understanding. "I see. Is he ... powerful?" she then asked, but frowned. "No, that's not quite what I mean ..."

Rory reached out and placed a hand to her shoulder, squeezing gently. "He will not betray you to the Tower or the Templars," he assured her. "I have met the Bann on many an occasion and he is nothing if not honorable, and he is very like the Couslands in the way that he views mages and elves."

Myra remained silent for a moment gathering her thoughts. "Did you overhear our conversation?" she asked softly.

Rory smiled down at her. "Not until the very end," he promised. "But given how quiet you have been, almost from the beginning, it did not take much to discern where your concerns might lie." He watched her for a moment, and when she glanced up at him, he added, "I will keep you safe, just as I will the teyrna."

Myra smiled, her face softening slightly. "I know you promised Anders, and I do not necessarily expect that you -"

Rory moved his hand to lift her chin so that she was looking directly at him. "I made a promise, yes," he told her sincerely, "but I choose to do it for my own reasons, according to my own honor code."

Myra saw something flare behind his eyes but could not make it out due to the darkness surrounding them. She did note that he was staring intently at her, his hand was slow to leave her chin and when it finally did, she could still feel the warmth left behind from his touch. Swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat, it took her a few moments before she finally managed to say, "Once we reach Rainesfere ... what then?"

Rory turned away for a moment, using the silence to regain his composure. He took another drink of tea and then replied, "I am not sure. I would imagine that the Bann will be able to assist us ... somehow. I do not think that they teyrna should be traveling around much. I am hoping he will offer her shelter, which I have no doubt that he will do, so that I may join with Fergus and the remaining Highever forces at Ostagar." Then he frowned. "Perhaps we could arrange to have you remain with the teyrna as her healer?"

Myra gasped softly, but she noted that, as his head snapped to glance at her, he had heard the soft sound. "I ... I ..."

"I will make sure you are safe and cared for while I am gone," he told her.

Myra could not help the blush that began creeping up her neck to her cheeks. He really seemed to believe that his promise to keep her safe was worth the risk of being caught with an apostate mage.

* * *

They arrived at Rainesfere two days later, but it still took them the afternoon to reach Bann Teagan's estate of River's Fall, named so for the nearby waterfall caused by the river as it trailed its way through the Bann from the Frostback Mountains to Lake Calenhad. When they neared the estate, Rory brought them to a halt near the edge of the tree line. Still back far enough to remain out of sight from any workers in the fields, Rory kept his voice low as he asked, "How would you like to do this, my lady?"

Eleanor stared ahead, evaluating the scene ahead of her. The sun was setting for the day behind the mountains, and the fields had emptied. Though they could see light coming from the main house, they also saw another building that looked more like a small barracks over near the stables that was brightly lit as well. "We need to head for the manor house," Eleanor said. "Teagan's seneschal is a woman named Corrin. I've met her upon occasion. I suspect she will be willing to keep our presence quiet if we request it."

The three moved closer to the edge of the trees as the sun was almost completely gone now and the shadows were elongated such that they did not need to fear being seen. "Do you want me to approach, my lady, and then signal you? Or do you want to go?" Rory asked. Myra remained silent as this was completely out of her realm of knowledge.

Eleanor fell into an old habit of biting her lip as she thought on her decision. "I will go. I know Corrin, she knows me. I will signal you both if she allows us safe harbor. Hopefully, Teagan will be around to make things go smoother, but I suspect that he may have been called to Ostagar as well." Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at Rory and Myra. With a soft smile at the mage, she said, "It will be all right," before she turned and walked away towards the house.

Rory moved into a guarded position that placed himself between Myra and the rest of the estate so that, by some off chance, they were spotted, she would remain unseen. They watched the teyrna reach the door and knock. Rory counted in his head the seconds it took for an answer, and was satisfied with the result. He watched as Eleanor spoke to someone, though he could not see who. It was some moments later when he watched her turn and return to their position.

Eleanor moved quickly, arriving beside them in mere moments. "As I feared, Teagan has been called away. Corrin insists that we stay at least for a few days if not longer to give ourselves a chance to recover. I did not mention the events that have led us to this point, though I think she suspects something has gone amiss. At any rate, she is having rooms made up for us as we speak."

Myra was hesitant in her agreement, but when Rory turned and offered her his hand as an anchor on which to hold, she finally agreed. It was not that she did not trust Rory or Eleanor, or their friend in whom they both trusted, she told herself. As they crossed the fields and approached the doorway to the manor, being held open by an older woman, perhaps near the teyrna's age, Myra realized that it was due to her experiences in the Tower that she had trouble trusting in people.

Rory recognized Corrin upon entry into the house and nodded at her. Once the threesome were inside, Corrin closed the door and turned to face them. "If you will follow me, I will show you to your rooms. I thought given your ... travel-worn state you might prefer eating in your rooms. The baths are being drawn right now. Food will be up shortly."

Eleanor led the way, following behind Corrin as they climbed the stairs to the second story. "Corrin," she said wearily, "you mentioned that Teagan was not here. Has he gone to Ostagar with his men? Has there been any word from there?" Eleanor was surprised when the woman came to a sudden halt at the top of the stairs. "Have you not heard, my lady?" she breathed. "The king, the Grey Wardens ... all the men at Ostagar save Loghain and his army who withdrew and left the field of battle ... all were ... destroyed."

Rory gasped and moved quickly when he saw Eleanor pale suddenly. He managed to catch her in his arms just as she collapsed. Myra stepped up then and asked, "Which is the teyrna's room?" They followed as Corrin led them into a small suite of rooms. She opened the door to the bedroom, lighting a lamp near the bed as Rory set Eleanor upon it and Myra began checking her. "I - I'm so sorry, Ser Gilmore," the seneschal told him. "The news, the rumors have been flying for weeks now. I just assumed you all had heard ..."

Rory sighed as he set his weapon and shield aside. Pulling the woman out into the sitting room, he explained what had happened. "The last we knew, Fergus and some of Highever's soldiers, the ones who left before the attack, were on their way there. The night of the attack, the teryn and teyrna sent their youngest with the Grey Warden Commander, Duncan, to Ostagar. She was going to become a Warden herself." He lifted his head to stare at the woman. "You are sure they were all destroyed?"

Corrin nodded sadly, quick tears coming to her eyes. "I am so sorry," she whispered. "I had no idea! The last we heard, when Bann Teagan returned from Denerim just two weeks ago, was that Teryn Loghain quit the field, declared that the Wardens were responsible for the death of King Cailan and that he was going to take over as regent for Queen Anora."

Rory pushed away the ache in his heart for his friends at Ostagar - the soldiers from Highever, Fergus and Lysette - as well as the additional pain that this would cause the teyrna. He had to remain strong for them, for her. Someone had to make sure at least one of the Couslands survived to tell the tale of what had happened. Turning, he glanced back into the bedroom to find Myra assisting the teryna with the removal of her armor before guiding her back to the bed. Once this was done, he saw the younger woman pull the covers up before moving to sit beside the teyrna and pull the older woman's hand into her own. He could tell simply by looking at them that there was something they shared, a common pain, and he wondered at it.

Turning back to Corrin, he requested, "Corrin, if you would please have the food brought here, I believe we shall be up for a while yet." The seneschal nodded and turned to leave them alone with their grief. Stepping back to the doorway, Rory leaned against the door frame and watched as Myra lifted her gaze to his. Her look told him much of what the teyrna must be going through, and he moved inside the room to sit beside both women, taking one of their hands in each of his and hoping that he might be able to impart some of his strength to help them through this.


	9. Chapter 8

_Thank you to those who read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting favs and alerts including: jenndgf, Lady Dayla, Piceron, roxfox1962, I am Cousland, andusir06 and Erynnar._

_Thank you to my fabulous and faithful betas without whom I would be so lost: __**VioletTheirin, MireliAmbar, Erynnar**__ and __** Piceron.**_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_****A/N:**__ I know this story has had a lot angst in it, and this chapter particularly, but I promise things are about to get better in that department as a bit of adventure and intrigue is about to begin!_

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Between Rory and Myra, they managed to convince and cajole Eleanor into eating a bit of food before lying down for the night. All three were subdued. When Corrin returned to retrieve the remains of their meal, she murmured quietly, "I have kept your presence here quiet as the teyrna requested. Should you need anything during the night, my room is the last one on the left to the right of this room as you exit." She glanced over at the teyrna. "I wish Bann Teagan was here," she added, "but he was called to Redcliffe to deal with a family emergency."

Rory nodded, mentally crossing Redcliffe off of his list of places they could go next. "We should move on in a few days," he told her. "Corrin, do you think the Bann would mind if we ... borrowed a few things ... from his armory? I am thinking we will have to move on soon, to keep you all safe here, especially with the Bann gone."

Corrin smiled. "I do not think he would mind at all, Ser Gilmore," she replied. "I assume you remember where it is?" He nodded. "I would suggest visiting it this evening then, when the staff has gone home. I will stop by and let you know when it is safe." She then glanced over at Myra. "Young lady, I may be able to get my hands upon some 'normal' clothing for you if you wish? Something that doesn't scream 'Tower mage' quite so obviously?"

Myra blushed but nodded. "That would be ... most appreciated," she replied.

Once Myra was certain that Eleanor slept peacefully, she silently indicated to Rory that they should move to the adjoining sitting room. There, they both sat, speaking softly when needed, but mostly recovering from their own shock at the news Corrin had presented them. After a time, Rory asked, "Did you not know that all had been lost at Ostagar? You and Anders mentioned that the incident at the Tower occurred after the mages returned?"

Myra nodded as she sat back in her chair, pulling a blanket over her that she had found resting upon it. "Uldred and the majority of mages who survived returned, but they made their move so quickly, within a day or two of their arrival, that the rumors did not make their rounds as they usually do. Instead of talking about what happened, we found ourselves fighting for our lives." She shuddered and pulled the blanket tighter around her. "I ... I lost many friends to Uldred and the others ... blood mages, abominations, ... I was frightened for my life. That is the only reason I agreed to leave with Anders."

Rory was sitting in a chair as well, but leaning forward, bent over his legs with his arms resting upon his knees. "I am sure I could not even come close to guessing the horrors you went through," he told her quietly, "so I will not offend you by trying to do so. However, the fact that you did escape says something about your abilities, I would think."

Myra sighed softly. "I think my escape says more about the men who have assisted me than my own powers. I am a healer, Rory, plain and simple. I know a few offensive spells, mostly cold spells. But by no means am I a warrior or a battlemage."

Rory could not refrain from a gentle, teasing grin. Giving her an amused look, he murmured, "Oh, I would not be too sure of that. I suspect that, if given half a chance and if provoked, you might be able to put more than a few people in their places!"

Myra actually giggled. Though blushing, she did reply, "Well, I _did_ freeze the neighbor's dog when I was a child." When she saw him frown, she clarified, "That was before they took me to the Tower. Something the neighbor's child did angered me and I responded by freezing his dog."

Rory glanced over at Myra. "How old were you?" he asked.

"I was eight," she told him. Though her smile had faded for a moment, a weaker version of it soon came back when she added, "My, he was so surprised! But he was not the one responsible for identifying me. I was apparently seen by a Chantry sister who was leaving the alienage that day after working with the people at the infirmary. When the Templars came, I was at home with my father and mother. The sister was with them, she explained what she had seen, and they took me away right then and there."

Rory watched her face as she spoke, saw her eyes become unfocused as she delved back into memories that were obviously painful for her, but did not seem to torment her. _If she was eight at the time,_ he thought_,then she has had time to deal with the separation ... though that is a horrible way to treat a child!_ Rory saw the moment her vision cleared itself of the memories and returned to the present as her blue eyes locked onto his. For a moment, he lost his train of thought, of anything and everything he might want to say.

And then she blinked, and murmured, "I suppose it was all for the best. It has been a very long time since I was there, I doubt anyone at the alienage remembers me now."

Rory frowned. "How long ago?" he asked. He didn't think she could be more than about sixteen or so in age.

"Fifteen years ago," she replied. Myra saw the surprise in his eyes and she could not hold back a laugh. "How old did you think I was?" she asked.

Rory blushed, his face nearly matching the color of his hair. "I would prefer, my lady," he told her a bit brokenly, "not to answer that. I would not wish to distress you."

Myra grinned. Leaning forward, she managed to reach out and touch his hand. "I am twenty-three, Rory." With a heavy sigh, she sat back again and murmured, "I am amazed that you could not tell, actually. After all I have been through in the past few years, I would have thought my face would be quite aged."

Rory smiled at her and shook his head. "No, my lady," he told her in his completely open and honest manner, "that is something you need not worry about."

There was a soft knock at the door leading in from the hall, and they both turned to see Corrin entering, clothing on her arm. Setting the clothing beside Myra, she nodded at Rory and murmured, "Now is the time, Ser Gilmore."

Rising, Rory moved to follow the seneschal out of the room. As he walked by Myra, he told her, "I will be back in just a short while."

Myra nodded. "I will keep watch on her," she promised softly as he walked through the doorway.

* * *

Myra was startled awake from a broken sleep in the chair in the sitting room by a loud, persistent pounding. _Someone is at the door? At this hour?_ Rising to her feet, she glanced into Eleanor's room towards the window. It was still dark outside, the stars still shining brightly. Frowning, she crept back out through the sitting room and opened the door to the suite. Across the hall, she saw the closed door of the room in which Rory was sleeping, having returned several hours earlier, successful in his search for armor for both himself and Eleanor, a sword and shield for himself and a bow and full quiver for Eleanor. Now he was taking a well earned rest, free of watch for the evening.

The pounding repeated itself, and Myra found herself drawn to the top of the staircase. Because of the winding nature of the steps, she could not see the door, but she could hear voices beyond. Frowning, she took a step forward, until she heard Corrin moving through the halls, calling out, "Blasted late night, last minute visitors! Sod it! Oh, hold onto your knickers, I'm coming!"

Myra fought the urge to giggle at the older woman's words. Though she desperately wanted to, she could feel the hair on the back of her neck - a sure sign that something was wrong. Frowning, for she trusted her instinct (it had proven to help her many a time over her life), she stepped closer to the rail so that she could hear what was going on.

Myra heard the soft scraping as Corrin pulled the door open part way. "Don't you know it's the middle of the night?" she offered as greeting to the new arrivals.

"I'm here to see your visitors," a deep, male voice intoned.

Corrin snorted, the sound sounding as rude as it had been intended. "Visitors?" she scoffed. "What visitors? This is Bann Teagan's estate. Bann Teagan is not in residence at the moment. Why would there be visitors here?"

Myra felt the hair on her forearms lift then. There was something ... menacing in the man's tone, in the words he had chosen... Then she heard a scuffle; a quick, hoarse gasp, and a thud. In her heart, Myra knew there was trouble: the intruder had just lifted Corrin by her throat against the wall. "I will ask you only one more time, old woman," the voice, now deeper and angrier, "where are the guests who arrived here late yesterday afternoon?"

"N-no g-g-guesssstssss," Corrin gasped.

Myra hesitated a long moment, wondering if she should intervene. Surely she could help Corrin with a spell or two ...? But the aggressive nature of the intruder was overwhelming, and Myra decided that her low level offensive spells (for she was a HEALER, not a WEAPON) would be of little use and she spun softly, her booted feet quiet upon the floor as she rushed to Rory's room. She opened the door quickly but quietly, running to the bedside. Unlike Eleanor's set of rooms, this was only a bedroom. Placing a hand at his shoulder, Myra leaned down towards Rory's face and hissed, "Rory! Rory wake up!"

Rory bolted upright and reached out in a defensive manner, but quickly realized that it was only Myra waking him. "Myra," he choked, "what -?"

"Hush!" she hissed. "There is a man below stairs demanding Corrin tell him where we are! We must get out of here!"

Rory moved quickly out of the bed, reaching for his armor. "Go and wake the teyrna," he told her. "Get her awake and ready as quickly as possible! I will meet you in the hall in a few moments."

Myra crossed the hallway and hurried to Eleanor's side. "My lady!" she breathed near Eleanor's ear. "Eleanor, please! You must wake and hurriedly! We have to flee!"

Eleanor heard a desperate voice hissing at her, and managed to find her way to consciousness. "Myra?" she breathed.

"My lady, we must flee," the younger woman said, handing the leather armor that Rory had borrowed earlier in the evening. Eleanor had chosen to sleep in her tunic and breeches that she had been wearing beneath her original armor set. Myra did what she could to assist with the buckles and ties, and when Eleanor was finally pulling on her boots, Myra handed over the new weapon. "Please, my lady!"

Myra led Eleanor through the sitting room, reaching for her pack and their cloaks that were lying on the chair she had been sitting upon earlier. As they approached the doorway, the two women saw it being pushed open. Instantly, Myra felt the cold vapors gathering at her fingertips. Within a moment, however, they realized it was Rory who had a finger to his lips and gestured them out into the hall. Pointing away from the staircase, he whispered to them, "Back stairway, leads out the back way. Go, now!"

They were hurrying quietly, quickly when they suddenly heard Corrin shout out angrily, "Bugger off, you mercenary bastard! You'll have to kill me as you're wasting your time. I will tell you nothing as there is nothing to tell!" A hoarse gasping groan could be heard as they picked up speed and ran. Clearly, Teagan's seneschal had given her life to protect theirs.

When they reached the stairs, Rory led them down, at full alert, his weapon drawn. Myra was behind him with Eleanor bringing up the rear, her bow up and at the ready, arrow nocked in place. A few moments later, and they were stepping outside the back door, leading away from the manor and down the hill towards the river for which the estate was named.

* * *

On the run again, Rory led them further south. When they stopped to rest, shortly before dawn, he explained to them his plan.

"My lady, Corrin insisted that we take what we needed," he explained at Eleanor's puzzlement to her leathers and her new weapon. "She also gave me this," he added, pulling a small sack from inside his cuirass and bouncing it so that they could hear the jangling noise of metal. "I suspect that she knew we would need to leave in a hurry, and she wanted us to be able to provide for the 'necessities of the road' as she called it. She also insisted we avoid Redcliffe."

Eleanor nodded. For Myra, they might as well have been speaking in Orlesian as she did not know the countryside well at all. "We will head for Lothering then," Eleanor said, "and from there to South Reach. Though the Bann belongs to another now, I still have acquaintances who live there who might be able to offer assistance." In her youth, Eleanor's father, Galen Muir, had been the Bann of South Reach. Familial control of the lands had ended with his death as his only surviving heir aside from Eleanor, her twin brother Edward, had died at the Battle of White River.*****

And so they traveled. For days. For weeks. They purposefully chose a route leading away from Redcliffe, not knowing or understanding the problems there, but trusting in the guidance of the woman who had given her life for them.

As they neared Lothering, it became apparent that things were not as they should be. The landscape around them began to change. Animals that should have been abundant were conspicuously absent. All greenery from grass to bushes and trees looked to be dead or dying. Upon further investigation, they discovered that the entire area appeared to be affected by the Blight.

"We should backtrack," Rory said. "Move further north and then east through the Bannorn." He looked eastward towards Lothering before turning towards his companions. _My lord, I need your guidance here_, he thought. _I have no way of knowing how far north this Blight has spread. I must keep her safe!_

Eleanor frowned. "How far north do you think it goes?" she asked.

They began backtracking as the conversation continued, knowing that it would not be prudent to remain in such a place. "Far enough to have destroyed Lothering," he replied. He glanced down at Myra who remained quiet. When she noticed him looking at her, she smiled gently and shook her head.

They traveled an additional three days north into the Bannorn before turning east. The grassy open spaces did not yet seem to be affected by the devastation being wrought by darkspawn, yet they could see signs of disruption and upheaval. They stopped to investigate at one point, a battle that had been fairly recent and the dead simply left behind (which was unusual given that there were equal numbers of losses on both sides). As they searched, while Eleanor and Rory discussed possible theories as to what had occurred, Myra looked to their own immediate needs, confiscating health potions, rations and other essentials that they had left behind when fleeing River's Fall.

Myra had just overheard Rory saying something to the teyrna about Loghain when she heard a loud shout from the direction in which they had come. Rising to her feet, she looked back over her shoulder to observe a small group of men, no more than three or four, striding in their direction with purpose ... and drawn weapons. Though not close enough yet to be heard, Myra could tell that they meant trouble. She ran over to Rory and Eleanor, crying out just loud enough for them to hear, "Someone's found us, and they don't seem friendly!"

Rory's head lifted sharply, staring beyond Myra. "Go!" he hissed at Eleanor and pushed her roughly towards the east. "Now!" He grabbed Myra's arm and pushed her along as well. Though he did not see the intruders, he had no doubt that Myra had. He felt a wave of concern wash through him as he understood then that they were being hunted.

They ran, and the entire time, Myra thanked the Maker again for Corrin and the clothing she had brought. The tunic and breeches and boots she was now wearing gave her so much more freedom to move than her mage robes. _Maker, take your faithful servant into your fold ..._ she prayed. As she continued, following behind Eleanor, Rory following behind her as a wall between them and the mercenaries, Myra realized, _I should have intervened at the time! Though my spells are not the strongest, I could have stopped this before it ever started!_ The sudden realization made her stumble slightly, and the next thing she knew Rory was at her side, his strong arm lifting her back to her feet. "Can you make it?" he asked.

"Yes," Myra told him.

They continued on, slowing to a fast clip when it became clear that danger was not imminent. Rory insisted upon continuing, in the hope that whoever it was following them would have to stop with the approaching darkness. If that was the case, then they could gain additional distance by traveling in the darkness.

Over the next several days, their course took them south once more, around the village of Lothering and back towards the east. To their south was the Brecilian Forest. To north and east was South Reach. Though they still did not have visual contact with the men following them, Rory knew they were reaching a point where they would need to find assistance. Since their arrival at Rainesfere, he had watched as the teyrna began a steady descent into depression, and nothing seemed to snap her out of it. What's more, they did not have the time to allow her to grieve for her losses, which to his mind was exactly what she needed. And where he would have looked to Myra for assistance, he discovered with much concern that the young mage seemed to be doing the same, but to a lesser degree. The afternoon that he discovered this, he realized that he would need to speak with her that evening to see if she would discuss what was troubling her.

But, as often happens when one goes about expecting one thing to happen, another event - one totally unexpected occurs. As they traveled through the edges of the Brecilian Forest, using the wooded area as protection, but trying to remain close to the Imperial Highway for guidance, Eleanor stumbled, falling hard to her knees before she could help herself. When she looked up afterwards, embarrassed by her clumsiness, she saw Rory approaching to offer assistance with Myra following behind him. A feeling of intense self-loathing swarmed over her then, which resulted in her cry of, "Just leave me be! Let me die here and then maybe I can be with those I love again!"

Myra saw Rory open his mouth to speak and placed a hand upon his arm, squeezing it firmly. She saw him turn towards her, a question in his eyes. Shaking her head, she moved before him, now standing between him and the teyrna. Despite her own self doubts regarding what had happened back at River's Fall, Myra crouched before the older woman, saying in a soft but commanding voice, "You will not give up, Eleanor. You have survived this far for a reason. Time and time again you have escaped from or missed capture. The Maker obviously has plans for you."

"I no longer care for the Maker's plans!" Eleanor cried angrily. "Those I love, all of my dreams for the future have been yanked away from me - why should I care about the Maker's plans when he has no care of mine?"

Reaching out, Myra placed a hand upon Eleanor's shoulder. "No mother should have to lose a child," she agreed, "but you and I both know that it happens. Whether it is as an infant or an adult. The pain from something like that is worse than any other except perhaps that of a life partner." Myra struggled to breathe evenly. Pushing away her own personal memories and emotions, she continued, "Women like us are made of stronger stuff. We persevere and find ways to move on with our lives, to find a new purpose, a new plan."

Myra was not surprised when Eleanor pulled back from her touch, her demeanor filled with anguish and anger. "What would _you_ know about the pain I have been through?" she demanded. "I had to watch as my home, my family and my friends were all killed in front of me by an overly ambitious man who wants more than he deserves! I have fled for my life across this country for the second time in my life because someone wants me and mine dead!"

Sighing, Myra rose to her feet, feeling Rory's presence behind her, wishing she did not have to respond to the teyrna's challenge at that moment. However, as she had told Eleanor, the Maker obviously had a plan, it was time to make the older woman see it ... "Though mages are not allowed to marry, or to have children, relationships have been known to occur; between mages, between mage and Templar even. When discovered, they are immediately broken up. Though relatively rare, there are 'accidents' that occur, and a child will be born." Myra closed her eyes and swallowed. "Just over a year ago, I became involved with a man at the Tower. We were careful, discreet ... save for one time. He went to his Harrowing a short time after and did not return. I was left pregnant."

Myra wandered off to the side to sit down on the limb of a broken tree. "You may have noticed how ... protective of me Anders was. You see, he was Kieran's best friend. Before leaving for his Harrowing, Kieran had made Anders promise to watch out for me should he not return. Anders agreed. It was Anders who brought me the news of what happened to Kieran. It was Anders who did his best to comfort me in his ... unique and amusing way. It was Anders who was with me when I discovered I was pregnant with Kieran's child. It was Anders," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes locked onto Eleanor's, "who took the brunt of the Templars as they accused _him_ of being the father of my child. The First Enchanter knew that it wasn't him, as did many of the other mages, but Anders allowed them to think it because it took pressure and attention off of me. When my time came, it was Anders who helped me to Wynne and the other healers, he who held my hand and encouraged me through a birth, I was told later, that most women would not have survived. And it was Anders who, after I regained consciousness, told me of the child's death."

Myra lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, noticing as she did that tears had been rolling down her face. Wiping these away first, she added, "I was too small, they said, to have the child of a human. Whether that was true or not, I do not know. He would have been taken from me regardless, the moment after he had been born, and given to the Chantry. Mages are not allowed to have children, you see. So, my life was torn apart, just like that," she explained with a loud snap of her fingers. "Like you, Eleanor, I wanted to die. I ranted and raved, I pushed away the very people who cared about me and who wanted to help me. Poor Anders," she murmured. "He never asked for any of this, but he made it his mission to help me. And finally, once I learned how to grieve for my losses, to find a new purpose for my life, I began to heal. I became a healing specialist, I studied and passed my Harrowing, and I escaped that Maker-forsaken hell hole the first moment that I could, determined to help others who could benefit from my skills and knowledge."

Sighing, Myra rose to her feet once more, pointedly looking away from Rory, not quite daring to meet the gaze of the teyrna. "So you see, my lady," she said after a time, "I do know what it is like to lose someone you can call a partner, as well as a child - to have them snatched away from you at the most inopportune moment. And though it was not easy, and it took time to work through a lot of anger and pain, I did find a new path and move on. You, I suspect, can do the same, but you have to make the choice to grieve, to move on. I know that you have not had the most ideal conditions under which to process what has happened, but despite that you must do it."

Eleanor's eyes closed in pain ... and shame. _Oh, Maker, why do you make me go through this?_ she asked silently. She felt a hand at her shoulder and looked up to find Rory there, offering her his hand. Accepting it, she reluctantly rose to her feet. She could see by the look upon his face that he had been moved by Myra's words as well. When he gestured in the direction that Myra had walked, he told her, "My lady, there is a stream this way. Perhaps some fresh water ...?"

Eleanor nodded and set off. _Thank you, my loyal and faithful friend, for not condemning me,_ she told him silently. Moments later, they were at the stream bed, Myra sitting off to the left a bit as if waiting on them. "It is fresh and cool," the mage informed them softly. "I would suggest we fill the canteens while we are here."

Rory took Eleanor's canteen, then reached for Myra's before turning to do the task himself. As he knelt beside the stream, Eleanor turned towards the mage. "Myra -"

Smiling gently, Myra stood, placing a hand on Eleanor's arm. "No, my lady," she told her, "do not say anything. All I ask is that you search inside yourself; grieve for what you have lost, begin the healing process so that you may move on with your life. If I can assist in any way, you only need to ask, but it is you who must begin the journey."

Eleanor nodded, turning away for a moment, overcome. Myra's hand remained on her arm, squeezing gently, and when Rory said, "My lady, would you like a few moments alone?" she could tell that he had rejoined them. "Yes," she whispered softly, "I - I think that I would ..."

Rory reached out and placed an arm around Myra's shoulder and began leading her away. "We will be nearby if you need us, my lady," he promised before leading the mage away.

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***A/N:** reference to my story _**We Do What Must Be Done**_


	10. Chapter 9

_Okay, I have to begin this chapter by shouting out my beta Erynnar for her assistance with some of Corrin's dialogue in the previous chapter. I thought I had shouted it out ... but going back I realize now that I didn't (this is what I get for uploading at 7 am on short sleep!) and for that I am so very sorry, my friend! MUAHs for being a fabulous (and forgiving) beta and friend!_

_Now, thank you to those who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: roxfox1962, Piceron, Erynnar, sapphiretoes, jenncgf and The-Enduring-Fox._

_My eternal thanks and gratitude to my superfabulous betas: __**Erynnar, Piceron, VioletTheirin**__ and __**MireliAmbar**__. Thank you is not nearly enough to express my appreciation, my friends!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

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When Eleanor joined Rory and Myra again a while later, she was pale, exhausted and visibly distressed, but both Rory and Myra could detect the process of acceptance that had begun within her. She took a long moment to look at each of them before she finally said, "I am ready to move on." Rory and Myra exchanged a look with each other before nodding, understanding that this was more than the simple statement it sounded like.

Their journey continued over the next several days as they wove in and out of the edge of the Brecilian Forest. When they finally neared South Reach, their ultimate destination, they were horrified to find evidence that the Blight was nearly upon the bann. They stood upon the forested hill above Eleanor's childhood home and watched below; people scrambling to gather belongings, animals, family and move northward away from the troubles. Like those who had inevitably already passed through, they now became refugees as well.

Rory heard Eleanor's sharp gasp and moved to her side immediately. "My lady?"

"We must go back," she whispered. "We cannot survive out here, alone and in the open like this." She glanced up at him. "Perhaps in the mountains ...?"

Rory nodded. Realistically, he knew that they would never truly be safe from the encroachment of the darkspawn no matter where they would hide, but they would have to try to find some place. Turning towards Myra, he found her standing nearby, her eyes following the movements below. "Myra?"

Turning, the mage gave him an almost blank look, the chaos and confusion below, the knowledge of what was to come, clearly taking a toll upon her. "Lead on," she said softly, indicating she had heard Eleanor's words.

They traveled north around the village, pondering the best route to take. Finally, after a day and a half of travel, Rory turned them westward. As he and Eleanor had done earlier in their journey, Rory searched for outbuildings - barns, stables and other buildings not currently in use or separated enough from civilization that their use of it would not be noted.

One evening as they neared the eastern edge of Lake Calenhad, Rory found them shelter in an abandoned farmstead. It had been clear upon their arrival that the land had been the site of a bloody battle between Loghain's troops and those belonging to Bann Telmen. The site had been cleared of bodies, but other evidence of battle was around: a broken shield, areas of grass and dirt that had been blood soaked but now only showed dark stains, a partially flattened bush where a body apparently had fallen upon it.

Compared to the land outside, the building itself was in relatively good shape. It was clearly a well used place, and looked to have been inhabited fairly recently. Though he was certain of their security for the evening (there had been no evidence that they were still being trailed for some days now), Rory would not allow a fire just to be on the safe side. After a brief exploration of the building, they found some stored food stuffs and a keg of homemade ale in the cellar and made do with that for their evening meal. For the most part, they ate in silence. Rory did speak up once, requesting the teyrna's opinion on which way around Lake Calenhad she would prefer to take. After the meal, Eleanor excused herself and went to bed.

Myra cleaned up the residuals from their meal before returning to the front room of the house where she found Rory standing near the window. "You are always on watch," she murmured as she stepped back into the room.

Rory turned, still able to make out her shape in the fading sunlight that was creeping in through the windows. "It is a duty," he said simply.

"Is it duty, or is it penance?" she asked softly, stepping beside him. "From what I have heard from you and Lady Eleanor, the attack at Highever came at night, while you were off duty."

Rory's eyes closed for a moment the rush of memories flooding back as he recalled the events that unfolded. Swallowing hard, he nodded. "Yes ... I had just come off duty ... the only reason I was there is that the teyrn had sent a messenger to me, requesting my presence before turning in. I was just about to leave to meet with him when the attack came - some from inside the castle, others from outside. We managed to get the doors shut to prevent the majority of them from entering ... at least for a while."

Myra watched him turn to face out the window once more. She could see the pain in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Lifting a hand to his arm, she said softly, "It was not your fault, Rory." She watched him turn his head away then and she knew he still blamed himself. Tightening her hand against his armor covered wrist, she waited for him to turn towards her before she spoke again. "The blame does not lie with you," she murmured, stepping closer until she was practically touching him.

Rory gazed down at her. Though it was difficult to see specific features in the dim light, he could make out the soft smile, the concern in her eyes and her voice, the curtain of hair that fell along the side of her face tickling her chin and neck. With a sigh, he lifted a hand to her face, cradling her cheek with his long calloused fingers, sliding them beneath the heavy tresses. "I know that," he told her softly as Eleanor was in the next room, "but it does not change the fact that -"

Myra lifted a finger to his lips to silence him. "You just told me that you were still there even though you were off duty. You were armed, at your station. It sounds to me," she added while lowering her hand to cover the one he continued to hold at her cheek so that she could squeeze it gently, "as if you were in the best place at the right time. It is because of your actions, is it not, that the teyrna and her daughter had fewer soldiers to face on their way out of the castle?" He paused a moment - she could feel it through the contact with his hand - and then nodded. "Then you did the best you could possibly do in a damnable situation."

Rory shuddered slightly as her words washed over him. Deep down, he realized her words were correct. _It is time I forgive myself_, he realized. Looking up and beyond her, through the window once more, he fell to his customary conversation with the teyrn. _My lord, I doubt I will ever forgive myself completely for not being able to do more to protect you and Lady Eleanor, but I realize now just what it was that I was able to do._ He had closed his eyes again during his one-sided discussion and while they were closed, he felt Myra's small arms slide around his waist, holding him close. With a smile, he opened them again and looked down at her while sliding his own arms around her shoulders.

They stood that way for a time, the light finally fading to darkness. Rory turned slightly at one point so that they both could look outside at the same time. The quiet was comfortable, filled with warmth and strength of friendship. When Myra shuddered from cold, Rory grasped one of the traveling cloaks that had been hung up nearby and settled it about her shoulders. He felt her shrug under the wool before settling her head back against his chest. Rory smiled and settled his arm around her shoulders once more, holding her in place against him.

The moon had begun to rise when Rory told her softly, "I want you to know how sorry I am for your loss."

Myra stirred slightly, lifting her gaze to catch the faded image of his reflection in the glass of the window to find his eyes looking at hers. "Thank you," she replied. "It was not ... easy," she added, "and I sincerely doubt that I would have made it through without Anders there."

"You seem so strong," he told her. "It is hard to imagine that you had trouble going through something as difficult as that."

"Understand, Rory, mages are not allowed to marry, or form permanent relationships. Kieran and I knew that our time together was limited, particularly since neither one of us had gone through our Harrowing yet." She glanced up at him. "Do you know what a Harrowing is?"

Rory nodded. "I understood it to be a test of some sort? To prove that your skills had developed well enough to become a full fledged mage?"

Myra smiled softly. "That is a very nice way of putting it," she replied softly. "I should not talk about it, if for no other reason but to protect you both from any future questioning or punishment should you be caught harboring an apostate such as myself. At any rate, it is a test, one that is more than a simple test of spells and skills. At the end, you either pass, or you are dead. I think Kieran knew that he would not pass his Harrowing." She held his gaze for a long moment via the window. "I think he may have intended for me to get pregnant, to be sure that if he could not live, his son would."

Rory tightened his hold on her just enough to let her know he was there for her, supportive, a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen, but also that he would not press her if she did not want to speak of it. A moment later, he picked up on part of her earlier comment. "Anyone who dared try to take you from us would have to get past me first, and then lady Eleanor," he told her firmly. "And as I know that is nearly impossible ..."

Myra laughed softly. Patting him against his chest armor, she told him, "You know that neither of you would stand a chance against the Templars or the Chantry. But I appreciate the thought." She rested her head back against him and found his hand with hers. She felt him accept her touch without question. This reminded her of her conversation with Eleanor some weeks earlier. "Does it not matter to you, Rory, that I am an elf? You seemed so accepting of me ... well, at least once it was established that I was not out to turn you into the men who are after you."

"Ah, yes," he grumbled softly trying to contain a riotous blush that wanted to escape, "that. Well, you see, protecting the teyrna was foremost on my mind ..."

Myra giggled softly. "I understand that ... now," she reminded him. "And you are certainly dedicated to your duty."

Rory smiled. "I am a soldier, Myra. What do I have if not duty?"

"Well," she replied, "as you are not a mage and therefore not locked up in the Tower, one might assume you have a wife, perhaps even children by now."

Rory could not hide the blush and, though it was dark, he suspected she still noticed. "No," he finally managed, "no wife, no children ... yet." Feeling a bit more sure of himself, he continued, "Until recently, I had not met anyone I had considered ... suitable."

Myra gasped softly. She had no doubt that he was referring to her. Looking up at him, she said, "You never answered my earlier question. It does not bother you that I am an elf?"

Rory reached over to lift her chin so that she would look at him. "If it bothered me, would I be talking with you now?" he asked simply. "If I was concerned, would I have allowed you to stay as our healer?" He leaned down until their noses were almost touching. "If your being an elf troubled me at all, would I do this?" he whispered before closing the distance between them and kissing her lips. He kept the touch light, almost shy in its gentleness.

Myra started slightly at the contact, but did not pull away. When he lifted his head a moment later, she looked up to see the truth in his eyes. Lifting a hand to his brow, she brushed away some of the auburn strands that had fallen forward, tucking them behind his ear. Smiling softly, she placed her fingers over her lips as she had done earlier to keep him silent when he would have spoken. "No," she whispered. "No regrets. No pressures. No problems."

Rory sighed but nodded and took the hand in his own. "We have time," he told her. When she nodded, he felt the tightness in his chest that had appeared when she said, "No," disappear. Straightening then, he murmured, "You should go get some sleep. We have a long way to go tomorrow."

She nodded. "Wake me in a few hours to relieve your watch," she told him softly as she turned. Before she walked away, she felt him squeeze her hand, still in his grasp, gently. Giving him one last smile, she released his hand and found her way to bed for the night.


	11. Chapter 10

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: jack o'lantern21, jenncgf, Piceron and roxfox1962._

_Thanks to my betas: __**Piceron, Erynnar, VioletTheirin**__ and __**MireliAmbar**__ who had stood by me throughout this whole series of stories which seems to have grown exponentially since it first began as "just a Teagan story." I do not know what I would do without you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_WARNING: you may need a kleenex or two with this chapter ..._

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Ever since allowing herself to grieve for her losses, Eleanor had been able to sleep at night; long, hard, dreamless sleeps. She still tired easily and often at times, but that seemed to depend more and more now on emotional stress rather than on lack of sleep. As she drifted off that night inside the farm house, it was with great surprise that she found herself traveling into the Fade ...

At first, she thought perhaps she might encounter her former fiance and Bryce's younger brother, Iain Cousland as she had done thirty years before. The surroundings she found herself in - the library - even reminded her of that visit so long ago. But when she took a closer look, Eleanor realized that this was not her father's library at South Reach, but the Cousland library at Highever Castle. She entered the room slowly, cautiously, almost as if she feared who or what she might find there.

Eleanor was halfway across the room when she heard the achingly familiar baritone call out softly behind her. "Ellie." Turning slowly, she found her husband entering the room from his study. With a half sob, she ran to him and felt his arms pull her close. "Bryce!"

"Oh, my love," he breathed as he held her, "do not weep for me. I remember just how difficult it was for you when Iain died ... The fact that you can see me now tells me just how far you have come in your healing process."

"I never wanted to be parted from you, my darling!" Eleanor sobbed. "I hoped that Howe's men might kill me too, allow us to be together in death ..."

Bryce's chuckle was kind and gentle. "I think I mentioned at the time that you still had a purpose left here, did I not?" He watched her nod reluctantly against his chest where she rested her head. "You must watch after the young ones, my dear."

Eleanor frowned and straightened a bit. _The young ones?_ "Bryce, Myra and Rory are quite old enough to -"

Bryce lifted a finger and placed it at her lips to silence her. "Maker knows I love you, Ellie," he murmured in wry amusement, "but there are times that you need to think with your head and not with your heart!" Cradling her face between his hands, Bryce continued, "My love, Fergus and Lysette yet live! They will need you - your guidance, your love, your presence ... _you_ in the future."

Eleanor gasped. "Are ... are you certain they live?" she asked. "Corrin said ... all were lost at Ostagar ..."

Bryce ran a hand across her head, down the back of her hair, gently soothing her. "Ellie, I am positive," he told her quietly. "Those who we lost, those who are truly gone, I have seen: Oriana, Oren ... Nan ... Mallol ..." He gave his wife a half smile that widened into a grin as he asked, "Tell me, my love, did you honestly make Nan promise to nag me all my days should we both arrive in the Fade before you?"

Eleanor gasped again before what he said caught up with her head and she burst into a fit of giggles. "I ... I might have done," sh e admitted at last, "a very, very, _very_ long time ago."

Bryce grinned down at her. "I thought as much." Placing his arm around her shoulders, he started leading her away ... and the scene around them shifted to the room they had once shared at Highever. He assisted her to their bed before lying down beside her, pulling her body close so that he could wrap his arm around her. "I do not have much time," he told her sadly, "and this will be our only visit until you make your final journey, but I desperately needed to see you. You do know you are being hunted, yes?"

Eleanor nodded, leaning back into the strength and protection he offered. _Oh, I will miss this!_ she thought. "We don't know much about him. He managed to catch up with us at Rainesfere ... That was when Corrin was killed. She stalled him, kept him busy at the door while we escaped."

Bryce nodded. "She found me upon her arrival in the Fade," he explained. "She told me what happened." Even as a spirit in the Fade, Bryce's anger became quickly evident. "Corrin told me the man - Craddock was his name - was sent by Rendon to 'finish the job,' as it were," he growled. "He is a mercenary, paid good money to hunt you and Rory down because you escaped ... because you are a Cousland ... because you refused him so long ago ...*****," Bryce sighed heavily. "I should have listened to you, Ellie, all those years ago. If I had ... none of this would ever have happened."

Eleanor tightened her hold upon him. "If it hadn't been Howe," she said softly, "it would have been someone else."

They were quiet for a time until Bryce asked, "Where will you go?"

Eleanor looked up at him. "I thought we would head to the Frostbacks," she told him softly, hearing the initial catch in her voice at the memories that this provoked. "If nothing else, if we can get high enough, perhaps we can use the weather to our advantage ... to protect ourselves." She looked deep into the bluish-green gaze that she would not see again for a very long while. "And, it will bring me closer to you ... and Iain ..."

Bryce lowered his head to kiss her. "Our son will keep me content until the day that you are meant to join us, Ellie," he whispered, "though that day will be a long while in coming."

"Bryce -!"

He lifted a finger to her lips again, stopping the protest there. "Know this," he told her sincerely, "you have purpose beyond the here and now. Live your life as it was meant to be, Ellie, to the fullest and most complete that you can. You have so much to give to so many people, so many more lives to touch..." Once more he touched her face with his hand, his forefinger tracing the line of her jaw, the shape of her nose, brushing hair away from her face. Lowering his hand to rest above her left breast, he pressed lightly to feel the beat of her heart. "Know that I am with you, in here, for all eternity," he whispered, "and nothing will change that."

Eleanor nodded through tears, lifting her hand to touch him one last time. "I will miss the strength you always gave, the love and warmth that showed in so many ways." Finally, lifting his hand to her lips, she kissed it and rested it against her cheek for a moment before saying, "I will always love you."

Bryce smiled. "As I will you," he whispered.

Eleanor noticed the edges of their surroundings beginning to blur, felt her husband's touch becoming lighter and lighter upon her arm until she realized her eyes were opening inside the darkened room of the farm house. She sat up in the bed, drawing her knees to her chest and bending over to rest her forehead against them as she allowed the last of her grief to pass. _We will make it, my darling,_ she told Bryce silently. _We will survive ... I promise ..._

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*** **refers back to _**We Do What Must Be Done**__._


	12. Chapter 11

_Thank you to those who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set favs and alerts including: Evalyne, roxfox1962, Piceron, Erynnar, ProsePrincess, eireanestower, Dark Lys, McNeko, Sisimka, I am Cousland, Auranara, jenncgf, LadyReeana, dpMeggers, and Snafu1000. Thank you for hanging in there with me!_

_Thanks as always to my fabulous betas without whom I'd be totally and completely lost: __**Piceron, MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin, Blightsworn **__and __**Erynnar**__. Thank you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ Thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience with this! I do appreciate it!_

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If Rory and Myra were surprised by Eleanor's new found optimism or outlook on their experience, they chose to keep it to themselves. When the three rose the next morning, preparing before dawn for the day's travel, Eleanor chose not to tell them of Bryce's visit - that was personal, and the last words from him she would have for a very long time. If possible, she would keep it to herself and hold it close to her heart.

They were careful to leave no obvious traces of their visit behind, though they all knew that if the mercenary after them was as good as he seemed to be, he would have the skills or those with the skills to verify their stay. "We must go," Rory finally said, noting the lightening of the sky on the horizon.

Out on the road once more, they traveled in silence. It took them until mid-morning to reach the Imperial Highway, the north/south road leading along the eastern edge of Lake Calenhad. At that point, they stopped, choosing to remain in the lightly wooded area to the east for the moment.

Eleanor knelt beside Myra, pulling off her pack and passing around some of the dried meat that she was carrying. "Which way do you want to take?" she asked Rory. "If we go north, we pass the Tower and take a chance on Myra being found. If we go south, we have to deal with the approaching darkspawn."

Rory accepted the food that she handed him, nodding at her observations. With a slight frown, he began, "My thought is that we go south, that despite the darkspawn, perhaps the soldiers after us would not think we would retrace our steps ..."

Myra sat thoughtfully, staring out at the currently empty road before them. "There is a third option," she murmured suddenly. She blushed when both turned suddenly to face her, knowing that they respected her voice and opinions, but it still made her a bit uneasy when she would suddenly become the center of attention. "All ... all I meant was that ... surely we could ... find a boat? Row across?" Myra chanced a glance at Rory. The look in his eyes confused her for the moment ... was it surprise? Derision? Skepticism? ... And then she saw him smile ... and she felt her breath catch at the sight.

Rory was staring off across the highway when Myra's suggestion broke through his thoughts. _A boat ... but ... how? _Rory turned towards her and smiled, acknowledging the idea. He saw the surprise in her eyes and he silently wondered at it. Then, turning his attention back to the issue at hand, he mused, _Can we find one we could manage ourselves? Or could we ask someone to row us over?_

Rising to his feet at last, he assisted each woman to her feet. "We will have to see what the conditions are when we get to the far shore," he told them, "but I certainly think we can find a way to make it work." He handed Eleanor's pack to her and watched her shoulder it. "We shouldn't be more than a mile from the shore," he told them. "When we get there, we will see what situations present themselves."

As they neared the shoreline, the natural wooded areas gave way to open space which worried Rory just a bit, but he allowed that thought to pass by the wayside when, as they traveled southwards a short distance, they found a fisherman standing upon a small pier preparing his boat for the day. With agreement amongst themselves, Rory led the way, the women following a short distance behind. As he neared the boat, he could see the older man loading supplies into the vessel. Calling out, he greeted the stranger, "Hail, my good man! I wonder if you might be able to assist us?"

Rory watched the man turn, loose strands of his greying hair blowing slightly in the gentle breeze. He allowed the man a few moments to take in the group: two who were clearly warriors, but weapons unarmed. "Hail," he replied, his voice deep and as gnarled as the hands with which he was lifting a box of foodstuffs. Rory saw him squint and didn't know if it was because of poor vision or the fact that it was bright out. "Don't know how I might be of help," he was saying as Rory neared, "unless you're wanting to fish that is!"

Rory chuckled softly and shook his head. "Not exactly," he replied. When he reached the boat, he went with his instinct and extended his hand in a more formal greeting. "Name's Roland, friend. My companions," he swept his arm back to include Eleanor and Myra, "and I were looking to get to the other side of Lake Calenhad when we noticed you were loading your boat. Would you be able to assist us with that task?"

The fisherman watched as Myra moved to Rory's left side and Eleanor moved to his right. He was about to respond when something about Eleanor caught his eye and he looked her over once more. "M-maker's breath!" he gasped, staring at the teyrna in astonishment. "You ... you be the lady Eleanor Cousland! You - you're ... alive!"

Eleanor and Rory exchanged a quick look and wondered immediately if perhaps they had not made a huge error in judgement. Turning to face the man, Eleanor moved to reply when she recognized something ... a movement, a gesture, a mannerism ... "Braden?" she whispered.

The man's eyes widened as he grinned. "My lady! You _do_ remember!" he replied with a pleased chuckle.

Eleanor smiled sadly, her emotions returning near the surface. "It is hard to forget the man who rescued my fish of a daughter from sure drowning at age seven!" she returned quietly.

Fisherman Braden bowed slightly from his waist at Eleanor. "My lady, I would be more than happy to deliver you to the other side of the lake," he told her, "but I suspect that you might be requiring further assistance than that ...?"

Myra reached up and grasped Rory's arm, squeezing tightly to get his attention. "Perhaps we should discuss this on board? I don't like standing around in the open like this!" she told him quietly.

Rory was inclined to agree, but before he could say a word, he realized that the older man had heard Myra's softly spoken concerns. "Of course, of course," he agreed. "Let's get you folks on board. Young man," he added as he assisted first Eleanor up and then Myra, "if you would untie that line there ..." He directed Rory over to a nearby post that had a rope stretching from the boat to keep it tied to the dock. Rory did so, handing the line over and then stepped aboard.

The boat was not overly large, but it did have plenty of room for the four of them plus the goods that Braden had loaded. Once they were underway, the man adjusted the positions of some of his gear, arranged the mast and sail so that the winds would assist in taking them out further into the lake (though there were oars stored on the sides for the times when the winds would die down), before he took a seat between Rory and Eleanor.

"Now then, my lady," he said, "how is it that I can help?"

Between Eleanor and Rory, they managed to explain to Braden what had occurred from the time that Highever had fallen to Howe's men until they arrived at his boat. Throughout it all, Braden sat, his hands maneuvering the sail, but otherwise silent. When Rory and Eleanor completed their story, they sat back slightly, allowing the fisherman time to think.

Finally, leaning forward slightly, Braden began to speak. His voice was a deep rumble with a hint of indignation and anger mixed in. "I will transport you across, my lady, on that you can depend." he said immediately. "What concerns me more is what will happen when you reach the other side. From what you said, these men were able to follow you ..."

Eleanor nodded, her shoulders slumping. "We will go ... up into the Frostbacks," she told him vaguely. She heard not only his gasp, but the same from Myra and Rory as well. Lifting her gaze to Rory's first, she added, "I have some experience hiding up there ..."

"My lady," Braden broke in quickly, "I may have an ... arrangement that would work better for you." He smiled when she turned his way. "There is a house, high up in the Frostbacks," he told her. "It was once owned by my cousin, a shepherd who chose to raise his sheep up there. He died during the rebellion, and it has been empty since. I am the only one left in the family who knows about it ... My lady, you are welcome to have it for as long as you require."

"Braden -"

Rory sat back slightly as he watched the teyrna and the fisherman converse: well, more like the fisherman trying to convince an oak tree to drop its acorns early, he realized. "My lady," he finally broke in, "I think we ought to accept. It gives us a destination, it is elevated enough," he glanced at Braden who nodded as he continued, "that the majority of people who would try to access it, if they even knew about it, would be minimal, and we should be able to identify intruders before they reach it."

Eleanor shook her head vehemently. "No! I cannot put Braden or his family into such danger! As it is, Craddock and his men are bound to find out that Braden helped us ..."

The fisherman reached out and placed a hand over Eleanor's which she had in her lap where she was worrying them together. "My lady, I am alone. My Liza died nearly a year ago; I have been known to stay out on the lake for weeks at a time in order to catch my quota," he pointed at the supplies nearby, "with periodic stops to offload fish. I will be safe, I promise. It is you we must think of. Please say you'll go, use it for as long as you need it. Maker willing, things will be righted soon enough and you will be able to go where you want when you want."

Eleanor lifted her head and was about to protest again when she felt a firm hand at her shoulder. Glancing to her right, she found Myra standing beside her, looking decidedly ill but strong enough to give the teyrna a look that conveyed quite a bit. Turning to Braden, she told him, "I will agree on the condition that you promise to port only at inhabited areas like Redcliffe, Watersedge or Kinloch Hold."

With a tolerant smile, Braden nodded. "I will promise you that, my lady," he agreed. "Now then, let me tell you how to find the cabin ..."

For the remainder of the voyage, which even with good weather took the better part of two days, Braden took the time to go over and over the location and condition of his cousin's abode. Only when night fell did Braden dare to approach the shore, allowing them to disembark. They landed in waist deep water, though for Myra it came up higher to the point that Rory led her to the shore while Eleanor thanked the fisherman. "Stay safe, Braden," she pleaded gently, her hand on the side of the boat.

The man smiled, reaching out to pat her hand briefly. "That is my plan, my lady," he promised. "Now go. You have a ways to go before light."

They made good progress that night, stopping in a thick copse of trees as it neared dawn. Their supplies were good, their hiding place more than adequate, and their distance from main trails and paths excellent. They remained there throughout the day resting and preparing for the next part of their journey. Braden had told them that it would take them about a week to make it to the house from the shoreline, assuming they had no difficulties climbing the mountains, running out of necessities, or having to deal with any other obstacles.

The journey was going well. No close encounters with men or beasts, their supplies were managing well, and they even made better time than planned ... until they began climbing the peaks themselves. The closer they came to their destination, the quieter Eleanor became. She realized this the moment it began, with her first step into the high peaks of the Frostbacks, places she had not been for thirty years, and now had to face on her own without the man who had enabled her to survive by her side. Each step, each trail and switchback, her feet brought her closer to the apex, to the one destination that she felt might bring her closer to those from her past whom she missed. Though the thought of being closer to Bryce or Iain or others was tantalizing, she knew she was hesitant ... her steps began to slow, and their pace fell off.

Rory led the way along the paths, ever vigilant, ever watchful. He too noticed when Eleanor slowed, and he could guess the reasons for it. When they paused for a mid-day meal, Rory approached Myra to discuss it with her, but Myra reassured him, "It's natural, Rory. She will have moments like this still, but it is nothing to be concerned about. Yes, she is quiet, but she is not falling deep into the depression she had before. She will work through this on her own, at her own pace."

Rory did not argue with the mage and instead chose to continue on as if nothing was out of the ordinary, though at a slightly slower pace. The weather began to turn colder the further they climbed. By the time they finally made it to the summit, all three had donned not only their cloaks, but the additional clothing that Braden had given them as well. Together they climbed over the rise and descended to the clearing below. As they did so, maneuvering around brush, weeds, fallen trees and other debris that had gathered over the years, the buildings came into sight.

Halting in front of the main building, Rory turned to scan the clearing. It was fairly large, he noted, but was in desperate need of work to clear it out and make it inhabitable again. Braden had told him that there was a water source nearby, some short distance behind the cabin, and as they stood in the quiet clearing, he could hear the sounds of a stream trickling nearby.

For Myra, their arrival at the cottage was a relief (for finally they would have a more permanent place to stay) as well as an adventure in itself since her memories of "home" were more or less exclusive to the Tower. This place - or at least the potential for this place - had Myra feeling something that she had not felt in a long, long time ... hope.

Eleanor eyed the cottage closely as they came to a stop beside it. A main room, a small kitchen area built off to the sides, two separate rooms for sleeping and a loft. _Not Highever by any means, but more than enough for us I should think_, she thought in appreciation. She turned to watch her companions, and finally, after a few moments of silence, murmured, "Well, I think we may have our work cut out for us." She heard Myra chuckle softly and watched as Rory smiled at her in acknowledgement. Gesturing towards the small residence, she added, "Shall we begin in here?"

Rory placed a hand at Myra's back as he nodded at the teyrna. "By all means," he agreed.

They found the door closed but not locked thankfully, and as they opened the door and entered, Myra said softly, "Welcome home."


End file.
